


Ticking Down

by hulucthulhu



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), TiMER (2009)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Bisexual Steve Rogers, Bottom Steve Rogers, Bottom Tony Stark, Casual Sex, Everybody has Feelings™, F/M, Falling In Love, M/M, Mentions of PTSD, Minor Original Character(s), Multi, Multiple Relationships, Multiple Soulmates, Natasha Romanov Is Not A Robot, Oral Sex, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers, Sex, Soulmate-Identifying Timers, Soulmates, Steve Rogers Feels, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Steve Rogers is Not a Virgin, Switching, Tags May Change, TiMER AU, TiMERverse, Tony Stark Feels, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Top Steve Rogers, Top Tony Stark, mentions of torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:40:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 37,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22010458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hulucthulhu/pseuds/hulucthulhu
Summary: The future is lonely. Thanks to Timers, you can find out exactly when you'll meet your soulmate! Don't worry, the technology is flawless!Tony buys Timer Company to figure out how it works. Steve doesn't believe you can have a single soulmate. Ghosts from the past won't let anyone sleep. Everyone's falling in love *and* falling apart.Uses technology from the 2009 film TiMER.
Relationships: Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, Steve Rogers/Original Female Character(s), Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 7
Kudos: 86





	1. Blink

**Author's Note:**

> You don't have to have seen the movie Timer for the idea of a soulmate timer to make sense, but if folks find it helpful I can add a terminology glossary! I'll update the tags as it becomes relevant.
> 
> This is the first thing I've written in years, so excuse the rust.

On the plus side, it looks good for the Stark Industries portfolio. Timers are as ubiquitous as smart phones. Another plus, it gives him a fresh, non-Avengers related technology to tinker with. You can only change the suits and weapons so many times before it’s gratuitous. 

The downside is what lead to this acquisition in the first place.

“Tony, do you remember all your talking points? Are you sure you want to make this a whole thing?” Pepper says, brushing something off of his lapel, her brow furrowed. The sleeve of her sheer chiffon shirt falling back enough to show her Timer. Zeroed out. 

“It’s not going to be a whole thing, Pep. The timer I’m installing is just for show. This nice young,” he waved his hand in the direction of the Timer Tech waiting off to the side looking nervous.

“David, sir,” the Tech piped.

“This nice young David signed a lot of NDAs and whatnot. Didn’t you, Davey?”

David nodded quickly.

“See? Fine. Showtime!” Tony smiled, but it felt hollow. 

A former weapons manufacturer, even if he’s changed to more consumer technologies, buying a company so… personal… needed public clarification and sacrifice. Stark tech is everywhere. Stark technology being under your skin was a different kind of everywhere.

Speeches were second nature. Even the ones that seemed bold and unscripted were calculated. He was bored of this one already.

“... And that’s the mission of Stark Industries and Timer Co. Not to rig the system. Not to gain data. But to continue to give people the tool to know their destinies. Just make it look a little cooler, while making the count even more precise.”

He gave the crowd his signature smirk.

“Any questions?”

A flurry of hands reached towards the sky. He closed his eyes and pointed randomly. 

The young reporter perked up. “Does this mean you’ll be getting a Timer, Mr. Stark?”

“I was hoping that would be the question,” he smirked again. “While he’s not the Iron Man dancers, my new friend David is here to assist in getting me a Timer. Today. Right now. Consider this unveiling of one of the new styles available.”

David tripped onto the stage, Happy and a small team of men followed him with two chairs, and a small metal stand with a light attached. He waved nervously as he sat in one of the chairs.

“This new Timer model, the first under the new Stark ownership,” Tony said, rolling up his sleeve as he walked to the chair, “allows folks to more easily change the faceplate style of their Timer without risk of damaging the sensor. Styles change, and so do we. Now your Timer can, too.” He felt like an infomercial as he sat down. But he could practically hear the stock price rise as the words left his mouth. Money isn’t everything, he has more than enough. But more money means more he can redistribute out.

He laid his arm out on the arm of the chair. David smiled nervously at him again, and he just gave him a slight nod. The Timer going on his arm today wasn’t real. The placement gun—which looked like a giant ear piercing gun they have at Claire’s and the next thing slated for a redesign—had been rigged with a fake model. When it was placed, it would blink alive and show blank. He didn’t need the entire world knowing when he was going to meet his soulmate. If someone was even out there.

The news had already been abuzz when Pepper had gotten one and it started counting. Tony didn’t have one. It’s one thing to break up with someone. It’s another to love someone who’s soulmate is waiting for them and the whole world knows it isn’t you.

The cold alcohol wipe and smooth plastic of the gun on his wrist sent a shiver up his spine. He pretended to jump when David pressed the button. He was, after all, supposed to be implanting something into his flesh. David smoothed over the sensor with another wipe, before pulling out his calibrator, another rigged device. The new Timer was sleek, instead of the rounded edges of previous models, Tony’s had a modern, pointed display. It seemed to sit almost flush to his skin, lower profile than older versions. 

The whole world watched as Tony’s timer lit up. The edges first, a cool Stark blue. The display across it lit up.

“Are you ready to meet your One, Mr. Stark?” David asked. He should give his kid a large tip.

“See you soon, darling!” Tony winked at the camera as reporters chuckled. 

As David pressed a button, Tony’s timer blinked. It blinked again. And then the display lit up. ----- days.

“Ahh, sorry, Mr. Stark. It looks like your One doesn’t have a Timer yet,” David soothed, almost like he forgot this was the plan. “But the moment your One gets one, it’ll start counting down! But, uh, you already know that.” David blushed. He was a really good actor. 

There was an audible grumble from the crowd.

“Well,” Tony looked at his blank Timer, “I can buy almost anything, but it seems I can’t buy love.” He smiled to the cameras and laughed. 

The crowd seemed appeased by this show, so he launched into an explanation of the new design before exiting the stage.

David was paid and gone. The theatrics were packed up. Pepper left for home with her One. Which was, coincidentally, Happy Hogan. 

The only thing left was Tony. 

Standing in the elevator. 

Looking at the fake Timer on his wrist. 

\----- days.

He slipped the edge of his fingernail underneath the edge of the adhesive Timer and peeled it off. 

As the doors opened and he stepped out he tossed the blank little lie on the floor of his penthouse. Next was his tie. His jacket. His discarded clothes left a path to his master bathroom. 

He stood under the hot spray, letting it melt away the tension.

He’d been working on Timers for months. Of course getting one had crossed his mind. But if it wasn’t Pepper, did it matter?

But she was happy. He could see it in her. In a way he could never quite make her.

Maybe he could have that. Maybe he had finally served enough penance in this world, that whatever deity was out there, finally felt he was worthy of love. Maybe he wasn’t the monster he felt like he was sometimes. 

For a brief moment, as he waited for David to activate the fake timer, he forgot too. He was hopeful it would blink to life. But as the blank face popped up, he remembered the ruse.  
His fingers drifted to his empty wrist.

It had crossed his mind. And now it was lodged there.

He dressed methodically. Muscle memory guiding garments onto his body.

Bare feet plodding out of the plush carpeted bedroom, across the hardwood floors, down the concrete steps, to the cool lab floor. 

His main lab table was strewn with Timers, placement guns and components. 

Maybe he was worthy, he thought as he picked up a placement gun and loaded it with a Timer identical to the fake.

“Jarvis, prepare Timer activation protocol.” He didn’t need a David for this. 

Maybe he was worthy, he thought as the smooth plastic on his wrist sent shivers down his spine.

Maybe he was worthy, he thought, as the sensor bit into his flesh.

Maybe he was worthy.

“Run activation protocol.”

“Yes, sir.”

Maybe was worthy.

The edges glowed to life. 

Then the display. 

Blink.

Blink.

Maybe he was worthy.

Blink.

\----- days.

Maybe he was not worthy of love.

\----- days.

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

“This seems excessive,” Clint motioned at the TV where Tony’s press conference was playing. It was just downstairs in the tower, but none of the Avengers wanted to tangle with any of Stark Industries dealings.

“Just because you don’t have to play the games, doesn’t mean Tony has that choice,” Steve reminded him. Tony was a public figure. So was Steve for that matter. Clint, Natasha and Bruce were in the shadows. Thor was literally on a different planet. They didn’t have to subject themselves to such public displays of social politics. 

It was hard enough just being an Avenger. Steve couldn’t fathom what it would be like to own one of the largest companies in the world as well.

“The Timer is fake anyways,” Natasha said, throwing a couch pillow at Clint, who caught it with ease and threw it back. 

“Do you think he’ll ever get one?” Clint asked, tapping his own. 

“Maybe when he’s had some more time and distance from the whole Pepper situation,” Bruce said, entering the space slowly, balancing a cup of tea. “Watch it with the projectiles.”

“Fineee,” Clint whined. “This is boring, why are we watching it anyways?” 

“Good question,” Natasha shrugged, grabbing the remote to switch to a movie. “Any requests?”

“Steve, how many Star Wars movies have we watched so far?” Clint asked.

“Too many,” Bruce answered.

“How do you not like Star Wars?!” Clint scoffed.

“I think I am going to skip movie night, guys,” Steve said, breaking his pensive silence. “I’m feeling kind of cooped up. I’ll see you later.”  
He gently rebuffed their protests as he put on his jacket and boots and boarded the elevator to the garage. 

He peeled out of the garage on his motorcycle. He didn’t have a destination. He just wanted Out. 

Sometimes it was just so much. Star wars. Cellphones. Timers. The Avengers.

It was great at the same time. The incredible medical advancements, the magic of digital technology, the array of entertainment, his new family.

But sometimes the gaps just felt too large to fill. All the hours reading, watching, learning about this new world and everything he had missed in between were fascinating. His team was like family. But it didn’t replace what he lost. It helped. But sometimes the loneliness was unbearable. 

He rode until he needed to stop for gas, which, thanks to said technological advancements, had brought him far away from the city and the glow of it’s lights. He’d been riding for hours. The sun was setting.

He thought about continuing. Staying on the road until he hit a motel. But as he capped his gas tank and swung his leg over his bike, he looked back down the road he rode in on. As his bike roared to life below him, he let muscle memory take him home.

It was late by the time he reached his destination. The streets in this neighborhood were quiet. 

He had bought the apartment building he’d lived in before the war. And the few around it. He’d updated the units and anonymously gifted them to veterans and single mothers. If the inhabitants of the buildings knew it was him, they kept quiet. 

He had kept one unit for himself. The one he’d shared with Bucky. It had been updated, but he’d taken care to furnish it simply. It was small. A small kitchen with just enough room for a table to eat at. A small living room, overlooking the street below, and two small bedrooms. 

One had been his, one had been Bucky’s. Except it hadn’t been. One had been theirs, and one was his studio with a bed he never slept in.

Their room was his now. And his studio was still his. None of it was Bucky’s anymore. Even if when he was half asleep and the train passed through the neighborhood in the middle of the night, he could swear he could feel Bucky’s arm wrap around him like it used to when it would wake them from their sleep. Bucky wasn’t here anymore. Steve was. 

There was a time he thought he might take Peggy home to this place. After Bucky. He loved her, too. They were different kinds of love. One was soft and warm, one was bright and smooth. But Peggy wasn’t here either. 

It was just Steve. 

He undressed and slid into the cool sheets of the plush bed. 

Every time he slipped into a bed, he marveled at it. Peggy and Bucky would lose their minds if they knew how comfortable and large beds would be. But they weren’t here. 

Sometimes it was easier to come to this home, instead of the tower. It was quiet here. Quieter than it was on his own floor, with sound proof walls, high above the city. Here quiet was a dog barking in the distance. It was the infrequent rumble of a car passing in the night. It was the train a few blocks away, crashing through the darkness. It was the sound of radiators knocking. In the daylight it was the sound of children laughing in the alley, and neighbors shouting greetings. 

The quiet here was his mind. Even just for a moment. He could forget everything with the sheets pulled up over his head. Just close his eyes and listen for a moment to the din of everything he used to know. Waiting for the soft sound of footsteps coming back to his bed. 

Bucky’s footsteps had been quiet and steady, before the bed would dip and Steve could smell his sweat, aftershave, and the faded smell of cedar from their dresser. Peggy’s had been so uniform and even it was hard to tell how close she was before the bed would dip and Steve could smell the french soap she used, like honey and roses, and the faint smell of starch from her impeccable clothes. He often wondered what it would have been like to be lost in those scents at the same time. He’d never gotten the chance. He never would. 

Bucky wasn’t here.

Peggy wasn’t here.

It was just Steve. 

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

“You’re not a soldier, Tony!” Steve practically spat, throwing his cowl on the conference table of the debrief room. “You don’t get to make those decisions. You’re an engineer—you can’t build your way out of a firefight!”

“But I did. I saved the hostages while you were waving the American flag and jerking off to the national anthem or whatever the fuck you were doing. I saved them!”

“You endangered them, and you endangered the whole team,” Steve pointed to the rest of the Avengers, who were firmly currently team Stay Out Of This

“And we all made it! No one got hurt that wasn’t supposed to. Just because I didn’t have to learn how to climb flag poles and fold my bed sheets doesn’t mean I’m incapable of strategic thinking, or are you forgetting the time I saved New York?”

“And you almost died then, too! How many people are you going to put in harm’s way, Tony?” Steve’s jaw was clenched tightly. “Is your own deathwish not good enough for you?”

Before Tony could lunge across the table Clint caught him. Arms straining to hold him back. “Nat, a little help here? Tony, stop fucking kicking me!”

“Steve! Out. Now!” She ordered and crowded him until he backed through the door. She pushed him down the corridor. “Listen, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but lay off Tony.” She rubbed some grime off her face, or more across her face, it was hard to tell with the state of them. “He made a move, and it worked. It was calculated. It wasn’t the one you would have made but it worked.”

“It was dangerous and stupid. The building collapsed, Nat. If any of the hostages—if we—were anywhere else we would be dead.”

“Do you think he didn’t know that? He IS an engineer, Steve. He DID engineer his way out of a firefight. Just because you have something against him doesn’t mean he’s not worthy of your respect.”

Steve choked on his words, “what? I—I respect Tony!”

“Then stop acting like a child and learn to do it properly,” Natasha sighed. “I hate this mediator shit. Figure it out. I’m here for you if you need to talk about something, as your friend. But as your teammate, you need to figure this out,” she shrugged and walked back to the conference room, leaving Steve stunned in place.

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

“Who the FUCK does he think he is?!” Tony screamed, finally breaking out of Clint’s grip. Bruce blocked the way out of the room to prevent a chase down the corridor.

“He’s doing his best, Tony,” Bruce put his hands up gently as a sign of truce, “even if he was way out of line.”

“I’m not an idiot! I knew exactly what I was doing,” he huffed. “The hostages were in a section of the sub basement that was off the main structural brace of the rest of the building. Jarvis shut off the water to the block to prevent flooding. Bruce is indestructible! Clint you were playing shoot-em-up cave man outside! Steve and Nat were fine!”

“How could he know that?” Clint shrugged. “Besides, you weren’t fine.” 

Steve was out of line, but he wasn’t necessarily wrong.

“I was fine! I am fine!”

“‘Fine’ generally doesn’t require a super soldier digging you out of a pile of rubble and stopping a steel girder from impaling you,” Natasha said, slipping back into the room, past Bruce.

Tony blanched. “I just needed a minute!”

“Sure.”

The truth was Tony had been knocked out cold. It was surprising he didn’t have a concussion, even with the suit. It was luck Steve had found him when he did. That he was able to get the rubble off without collapsing the piles of beams around him. That Tony was alive.

“Steve was being an ass, but a little communication goes a long way. I’m tired of mediating two grown men,” Natasha sighed. “Figure your shit out, Stark.”

Tony glowered at her. 

“You and Steve aren’t needed at this debrief. We’ve heard enough from you,” she said blankly.

It stung, but he didn’t want to be here anymore anyways. He just hoped Steve wasn’t in the hallway when he left the room.

The corridor was mercifully empty as the door closed behind him. He took the elevator back to his floor trying to decide if tending to his wounds or showering first made sense. He opted for the shower, because the layer of grim coating his body just made the fight feel like it was sticking to him.

Steve was being unfair, but Tony should have said something before blowing the foundation. Tony should have gotten out of the building, he could have done it from the outside. He could have set off a timed explosion. But dying a hero seemed better than living with whatever this feeling was.

It wasn’t a deathwish, it just wasn’t a love of self preservation. Everyone else was safe, Tony wasn’t a maniac. He could just take or leave his own safety at this point.

Maybe he needed help. Maybe he wasn’t worthy of help. Maybe he wasn’t as heroic as he thought he was.

One thing was for sure, the towel he was wiping away the post shower droplets with was ruined by the blood droplets. He sighed. 

He put on basketball shorts and made his way to his lab. Yes, there was a full med bay a few floors down. Fully staffed to patch up the team, as well as provide medical care to Stark Industries staff, but he didn’t feel like facing them, not right now.

“Jarvis, run a full body scan,” he said tiredly as he hopped onto a table in the lab. One of his robots, rigged to help in situations like this, rolled towards him before scanning his body up and down with a cool blue light. Tony already knew his ARC reactor was functioning just fine. Everything else hurt though.

“Vital signs are normal. You have two cracked ribs, and need stitches on your head, left forearm, and abdomen.”

“Yeah I figured that one out,” he said looking at the gash on his arm.

“I recommend going to the—”

“Let’s try our bio-stitch serum #304, J,” Tony cut him off.

“Right away, sir.” If an AI could sigh, Jarvis was doing it.

Tony didn’t want to see another person right now. He just wanted to sit in the silence of his lab. He knew the experimental medical serum wouldn’t kill him, but it might not feel great. It might cause a scar or increase the risk of infection. But at least with the money he had, he could afford to fix all of that. He might as well be his own lab rat. 

His robot rolled over, holding a bottle and dropper.

“Thanks, DUM-E,” he said softly. The robot beeped in response. He uncapped the bottle and sucked up some of the serum in the dropper. “Jarvis, record application,” he looked hesitantly at the gash on his arm. “Here goes nothing.”

He carefully dropped four tiny drops across the length of the deep wound. He hissed and tried to keep his arm steady as the stinging liquid seeped into the wound. But he could feel the flesh start to close internally, the tightness of it stitching itself together. “Jarvis, make a note of internal wound suturing at 130 seconds. Second surface application being applied.” He dropped four more drops onto the visibly smaller wound. In theory, this would help reinforce the closure at skin level, but it would still require some butterfly stitches for a while. Which DUM-E helpfully rolled over with. He was pleased with the results, but dictated some notes to Jarvis for possible improvements. It wasn’t going to stop him from moving onto the next wound on his side.

This one was accompanied by the beginnings of a large bruise, no doubt the result of the steel girder Steve had lifted off of him. He could feel the tightness of the cracked ribs beneath his muscles. The next couple weeks weren’t going to be comfortable for sure. He’d had worse, but as he dropped serum into his wound and saw stars at the edges of his vision from the pain made him forget that for a moment. It fucking hurt, regardless. 

He allowed himself to lay on the cool table, panting and recovering from the second round of serum before he tried to sit up again and put butterfly sutures across the wound. He knew he had to wrap his ribs too, but that was a two person job. Maybe he could wait and ask Bruce in the morning. He remembered the wound on his head too. That was going to be hard to put the serum on himself without getting it everywhere. Who knows what it would do to unwounded skin. Maybe he did need some help.

He groaned as he pulled himself upright, “Jay?” he panted, “call Br—” his words died as he saw Steve standing at the door to his lab, looking solemnly at him. “Nevermind. Unlock the door.”

The locks clicked open, and Steve pushed the door open gently. His brow was furrowed as he looked at Tony’s battered torso.

“That needs something to keep the closure supported,” he said quietly.

Tony rolled his eyes and tapped the package of butterfly sutures next to him, “I know.”

“Sorry.” He opened his mouth to say something else, but closed it again quickly.

“What?”

“You should wrap your ribs too,” Steve mumbled, clearly trying to keep it to himself, but unable to let it go as he watches Tony smooth the thin adhesive strips over his wound.

“That’s two person job, so are you going to judge me or help me?” Tony held out the wide wrap. Steve took it wordlessly, and took a moment to get it ready. Tony lifted his arms and briefly wondered if he had put on deodorant. Why did he care? The sharp pain of lifting them too high snapped him out of it and he sucked in a breath.

“Easy,” Steve said softly. “Exhale,” he said. Tony let the breath go as Steve leaned in to bring the bandage around his body. He took a small, selfish breath in to inhale the clean, warm scent of blond hair near his face. Even when he was being an ass, at least Steve smelled good. Like pine, amber, and musk. Clean but heady. He exhaled again as Steve leaned away. “How does that feel?” He asked.

“Better than I could have done myself,” Tony said, a tired half smile gracing his face. “Can I borrow your nursely tendencies for another moment?”

“Sure,” Steve’s tired half smile matched Tony’s. Tony handed him a bottle and a dropper.

“There’s one more cut on the back of my head, can’t really reach it myself. This will help close it without stitches.”

Steve nodded and walked around the table. Tony cold feel the warmth of his skin as he sass stepped close to examine the gash. His hand gently parted Tony’s hair where it was starting to mat with blood and wiped it away with some gauze he’d grabbed from the table. Tony shivered involuntarily. The whole thing felt weirdly intimate when he’d wanted to rip Steve’s throat out three hours ago. He couldn’t help it. It was the most gentle touch he’d been afforded in months.

“My mother was a nurse,” Steve said softly. His voice sounded hoarse with exhaustion. “That’s how she met my father in the war.” Steve dropped some serum carefully on the wound. “The great war,” he clarified. “She continued her career after the war. She worked hard. And she was so good at what she did.” Tony thought he sounded almost reverent, lost in his memories. “She was my hero.”

“What did she think of your hero status?” Tony asked quietly, distracting himself as Steve dropped more of the stinging serum into the wound.

“She died when I was a teenager. Her heroism killed her before mine killed me,” he said. “Tuberculosis.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know,” Tony felt like a fool. For all the information and tales of Captain America, it seemed like nothing about him really existed before he joined the army. “Your father?” Tony had noticed the lack of inclusion. 

“He died in the war days before I was born.” Steve capped the bottle and set it next to Tony on the table. “I don’t think this will need anything else. Scalps don’t exactly flex much.”

Tony was snapped back to the moment, remembering why Steve had been so gently touching him moments prior. The warmth of his hands and body behind him now gone.

“Oh. Thank you,” Tony said.

Steve walked around the table and stood in front of Tony again. His shoulders seemed to slump heavily towards the ground. But he looked up to Tony after a moment. Clear blue eyes somber.

“I came down here to apologize,” he said. “I shouldn’t have said what I said. I was angry, and it was uncouth and uncalled for. I want to try to work together better.” Steve sucked in a deep breath and looked away for a moment, uncomfortable by the admission, but his eyes turned back to Tony’s. “I should have trusted you. My fear of losing a team member clouded my response to the situation, and I’m sorry.”

Tony’s head bowed for what could be mistaken as bashfulness. Steve was intense on a good day, being stared at like this just felt too much right now. “Thank you,” he replied. “I agree. I’d like to work on,” he looked back up and gestured to the space between them, “this.”

Steve nodded silently.

“Get some rest, Tony,” he said softly before turning away and walking back out the door.

“You, too.”

Tony’s back felt cold from the absence of Steve’s body. Something in his chest felt tight as he watched Steve walk slowly away from the lab.

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Steve dreamed of black curls, matted with blood. Of olive skin in the sunshine, and crushed metal in the dark. He woke up every morning more tired than the day before.

The truce didn’t seem to last long. 

Mainly because Tony defied orders that he was grounded when a surprise mission came up a month later. And the ever so slight hesitation his injuries caused made the difference between Natasha getting hurt and walking away unscathed. 

Steve was down two team members now. Both would be fine with time, but it didn’t stop the panic from rising in his chest when he thought of them both being gone. The panic turned into anger. The anger turned into another screaming match. At least this time he’d avoided personal attacks. He thought distantly, that it was growth.

He wasn’t going to apologize this time. This was blatant disobeying of orders leading to injury. This was carelessness. This was Tony's fault.

After the debrief, after he checked on Natasha in the med bay, after he put away his weapons, his suit, his rage, after he showered off the sweat and fear, the silence of the tower felt stifling.

He rode the familiar path to his neighborhood. He just needed a couple days to decompress. Everyone did. 

He crawled into the cool, empty sheets and slept for what felt like the first time in years.

He dreamed of olive skin bathed in a blue glow. Of black curls. The sound of a hammer on metal. The smell of metal and coconut. The smell of cedar and roses. Hands, so many hands gripping at him, pulling him down. Pulling him deep into darkness. There was the deafening sound of rushing water and the weight of it on his chest. He couldn’t breath. He couldn’t breath. He couldn’t breath.

Steve shot up in bed, drenched in sweat and gasping for air. His hands shook as he lifted them from their place knotted in the sheets. 

He touched his chest. There was no ice on it.

He touched the plush duvet. There was no blood on it.

He touched his face. There were tears on it.

He took a deep breath, counted to six, and let it out. He did again and again until he felt his heart rate slow. Until his hands stopped shaking. Until he was sure this was all real.

By the time that happened the tears on his face had dried and sun streamed through the window.

The air was cool on his skin as he pulled the rest of the blankets off of him. He splashed some cool water on his face in the bathroom before returning to dress. 

He could hear kids playing outside and he desperately wanted to feel free in the sunshine like they were. He decided to get some coffee at the cafe around the corner and drink it on the patio and enjoy the warm autumn day.

He was tired in his bones, but being in the warm sun and watching folks around him living their lives was like a balm. So was the mocha he sipped. Caffeine, sweetness, and creamy chocolate brought his blood sugar levels back up, as well as his mood. He realized he hadn’t eaten since before their mission, around 36 hours ago. As if his body remembered at the same time his stomach growled loudly.

“Wow, are you smuggling a lion, or are you just happy to see a bagel?” A voice behind him asked.

He turned to meet it, “I, uh,” he tripped over his word when he saw one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen was standing behind him, coffee in one hand, a plate with two bagles in the other. 

She was tall and curvy, her dress accentuating every twist and turn without being revealing for the weather. Her dark skin seemed to glow in the sunlight, and her long braids were pulled back.

“You already had a drink, so I bought you a bagel,” she explained, sitting down at his cafe table to Steve’s surprise. “The cafe seems as good as any place to meet someone new, don’t you think?” She smiled, the berry color on her lips looked like heaven, Steve thought.

“Seems like it,” he smiled back. He held out his hand, “I’m Steve.”

She shook it, her grip was firm and her hands soft. “I’m Rachelle. There’s a plain with plain cream cheese, or a blueberry with honey cream cheese. Have your pick, Hungry Man.”

He smiled and took the blueberry bagel, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. I haven’t seen you around here, are you from here?”

“I grew up here,” he said between bites. “I’ve been gone a while though.”

“It’s a cute neighborhood. I moved here a few months ago. I grew up in the middle of nowhere, but my job brought me here,” she said waving at the air. “It’s quieter than the rest of the city.”

“What do you do for work?”

“I’m a buyer for a few luxury boutiques. I source local vendors for high end goods,” she shrugged. Steve noticed now the rich fabrics of her clothes. The rings on her hands and in her ears were hand made, but he could tell the buttery gold was real. He didn’t always understand aesthetics, but he spent enough time around Pepper and Tony to know what modern day luxury looked like. “It’s not as interesting as it sounds. But it has its perks,” she smirked, noticing how Steves eyes took her in.

They chit chatted for a while, neither in a hurry to get anywhere. Getting to know the basics of one another. The conversation felt comfortable and laughs seemed to come easily. Steve didn’t feel pressured to impress her.

“I have a confession to make,” she said after a while. “On top of noticing how—if you don’t mind me saying—truly smoking hot you are, I noticed you don’t have a Timer.” Her bold eyes watched him, but she reached out to tap the blank space on his inner wrist.

Steve blushed. He’d managed to avoid this question with strangers until now. Sure, the press speculated. But when he was just Steve, not Captain America, he hadn’t let anyone but his teammates close enough to really notice, and they certainly weren’t going to ask.

“You don’t have to tell me why. Just surprising is all,” she said, fingers still resting on his skin. She dragged her fingertips across before pulling away, and pushing up her sleeve. “I get it when you could end up with something like this,” she said, tapping her timer.

It was an older model, less sleek than newer ones. 17,290 days. Over 47 years. Steve’s mouth dropped open.

“Right?” She said, sensing his surprise. “And I've already had it for 10 years.” She looked to be in her late 20s or early 30s, around Steve’s age.

“Well, that does suck,” he said after a moment.

She looked at him thoughtfully for a moment. “Yes, and no. It’s unfortunate that I’ll be 75, when I meet my One. Who knows how many days I’ll have left when my Timer goes off,” She looked somber for a moment. But she looked at Steve again, and he watched the spark light across her eyes. She reached back across the table, fingers resting on his empty wrist again. “But I have all the freedom in the world to do what I please, with whomever I please.” Her berry colored lips twitched into a smirk. 

“That sounds liberating,” he didn’t pull away, but he didn’t lean into the touch. He met her gaze. It did sound liberating to be unworried about the future. To be tied to only yourself, and know exactly when that will end. To not be tied to the past.

“It is,” she said, gently wrapping her fingers around his wrist. “Let me show you exactly how liberating it can be,” she said pulling him up gently as she stood. He followed her without protest.

She let go of his wrist in favor of twining her fingers with his, still leading him. Out of the gates of the cafe patio, down the street, and up the steps of a brownstone. He could only think of the warmth of her hand, and the curve of her hip, and the way her eyelashes batted as she looked over her shoulder as she led him to their destination. She unlocked the door and pulled him inside. His hand caught her soft waist as she turned away from the door and he pulled her in, lips finally crashing together. Her berry lips were sweet on his.

Her fingers snaked up his neck and carded through his hair, sharp nails sending a shiver up his spine. She pulled away, panting.

“Welcome to my home,” she smirked. “Come with me,” she said, untangling herself from him, but still pulling him along by the hand.

“Yes, please,” he said with a cheeky smile.

She pulled him up the stairs, down a hallway lined with vintage photos, and into her cozy bedroom. Her bedroom was painted a soft, light grey, with the wall behind her bed a deep, dark emerald. Everything was white, and gold, and light. He could see why her curation services were desired. 

She spun them around and gently pushed him down onto the bed before taking a step back. She stepped out of her heels, and pushed them aside. Eyes never leaving Steves, but a mischievous smile on her lips. Her hands slowly unfastened the tie on her dress, letting the wrap dress fall open and to the floor.

Steve wondered if she always wore matching lingerie sets like this one. The cream colored silk stood out against her dark skin and soft curves as she stepped forward. Her thick thighs bracketed his as she crawled onto his lap, kissing him deeply. His hands ran up her back, and back down to her hips, as she ground her body into his. 

“Touch me,” she said, breathlessly, hands clamoring back to unfasten her bra and throw it to the side. Steve was more than happy to comply, his mouth trailing down her neck to her now bared chest. 

She raised up, giving Steve better access to slip a hand into the front of her panties, while his tongue laved over a nipple. She gasped as he gently rubbed her, feeling her wetness. His finger carefully dipped into her heat before he brought it back up to rub softly on her hard clit. She arched her back as he rocked his fingers back and forth and gently bit her nipple. Her sharp nails dug into his shoulder, as she rocked her hips into him, desperate for more.

“Fuck,” she moaned, eyes fluttering. “Fuck me?”

“Absolutely.”

She slid off his lap to go to the bedside drawer as he peeled off his clothes. She tossed a condom at him before turning around and making a show of sliding her soaked panties down over her ass.

“Wow, you look… Wow,” for once, she was speechless. Her hand reached out to roam over his hard muscles like she couldn’t imagine they were real.  
He took the opportunity to wrap his arms around her and picked her up, her legs instantly wrapping around his waist as he did. As they fell into bed, and he finally, desperately entered her they both gasped. His hands couldn’t get enough of her expanses of soft flesh, and she grasped for purchase as he fucked her into the mattress. 

It had been a while, and her tight heat felt so incredible, he came well before he intended to, spilling into the condom with a breathy moan.

He stroked through the aftershocks, slowing his pace before slipping out. She pouted at the sudden absence, but her frown quickly turned into a moan, as his tongue lapped up her juices and delved into her. Warm, wet, and steady on her clit as his fingers worked inside of her. She came with a shout, wetness coating his mouth and face. 

He slid back up the bed, collapsing at her side, panting. 

“Isn’t there an app for folks without Timers called Coffee Meet Bagel?” He said quietly.

“I think so,” she said, chuckling. “This is better than an app.”

“Definitely,” he laughed.

They spent a while basking in the afterglow before collecting themselves and cleaning up in comfortable silence.

“This was nice,” he said after a while.

“Is that all?” She quipped.

He blushed, “No, it was more than nice. I just… It’s been a while. Not just sex. Laughter. Fun.” It came out tinged with more sadness than he expected. 

She placed a comforting hand on his arm, “I’m not one for relationships, of course, but I’m always one for friendship, Steve,” she said softly. “And friends with benefits,” she added lightly. “Because, wow. That bagel had great return on investment.”

He chuckled, “agreed. Thank you.”

They traded phone numbers before he gave her a chaste kiss on the cheek goodbye. 

It was late in the afternoon now, he wasn’t sure what to do with the rest of his day now. He wasn’t sure he wanted to go back to the tower yet. He wanted to live in the warm after feeling of orgasms and laughter. He wanted to feel this again. He didn’t want it to end now. He didn’t want to be alone.  
Steve walked around the city for a while lost in thought before ending up back at his place. He wasn’t ready to go back to the tower, but he needed to see a friend, so he shot out some texts to everyone but Tony. Natasha was resting from her injuries, and Bruce was busy, but Clint said he’d be over in 45 minutes with some pizza and beer. Steve figured that would give him enough time to set up the TV he’d taken out of the box and set on the TV stand when he moved in, but never plugged in or hooked up in anyway.

By the time Clint arrive, Steve was thoroughly frustrated, but had achieved his mission of getting the TV functional. But they quickly abandoned the TV to eat pizza on the couch and chat instead. They looked a cozy pair, one at each end, feet up on the couch facing each other.

Clint was catching Steve up on his latest vacation. And by vacation he really meant the latest time Clint skipped out on the quinjet back to base and decided to hang out in Córdoba, Argentina for a week.

“Argentinian hostels are certainly a wild place, man,” Clint laughed between bites. “But it was an adventure, and that’s the best part of life!”

Steve smiled and thought for a moment, “do you and Nat go on many adventures together?”

“Yeah! We’ve been revisiting places we only went on night missions so we can see them in the daylight,” he smiled, his eyes unfocused in thought. “It’s been awesome. It finally feels like we can have a future, ya’ know?”

Steve didn’t know, and wasn’t sure if it was rhetorical or not, so he just waited a moment before Clint spoke again. 

“We spent so long on the run, or chasing, or fighting that having the resources to sit still for a while has been… interesting, to say the least. Nat especially felt restless for a while. But I like sleeping in, so I don’t mind much,” he took a sip of his beer and shrugged. His Timer peaked out of the sleeve of his grey Henley as he drank.

“Can I ask you a question?” the words left his mouth without him realizing it.

“Yeah, dude. Of course,” Clint moved his plate to the coffee table to focus on Steve. “What’s up?”

“Why did you get a Timer?” He asked softly. Steve wasn’t that surprised at Clint’s, honestly. For all his showboating and casual demeanor, he was emotional and romantic. He was more surprised Natasha had gotten one, but he knew their stories were intertwined. 

Clint smiled sadly for a moment. “Growing up in a circus—which I am aware sounds fake—you see a lot of people come and go. A lot of relationships fail. But then there are the lifers. The people that have been together since the beginning of time. There was one couple in the company my brother and I stayed longest in, they were acrobats. They knew each other so well, so completely, that they didn’t even practice. Which sounds stupid in hindsight. But I remember watching them sail through the air, knowing so confidently that their partner would catch them, that all they did was have fun. They were never worried, never scared. And I knew I wanted that.

Clint smiled at the memory.

“Natasha and I hated each other when we met. And I mean, I would have hated me too if I were her. I kidnapped her, essentially. Being kidnapped by your enemy and asked to switch sides? Hard pass. But, to my suprise, she said yes. And for some God forsaken reason, she and I were partnered, despite our very clear distrust for each other.

“We spent years as partners, not really trusting each other. It was exhausting. For every ounce of truth we’d give each other, it seemed like it was met with another lie. We had a mission go wrong, so wrong I was sure we were both going to die,” his voice lowered a bit, still shaken by the memory. 

“Budapest?” Steve asked quietly. He’d heard rumors, seen some redacted documents, but let sleeping dogs lie.

Clint nodded. “She saved my life. She caught me when I was sure I was going to fall. And more so, she did it at the risk of her own. I didn’t know what it meant in the moment, but I knew that I couldn’t stop thinking about it for weeks after, and I couldn’t stop waking up from screaming nightmares about her not making it out of there.

“Somewhere in the weeks of nightmares and confusion about someone I thought I knew nothing about after years, I realized I knew the way she took her tea, the difference in her voice when she was excited about something, the brand of deodorant she bought, and her favorite painting at the Louvre. All these weird little pieces that didn’t make a full person by any means, but were small windows into her. Weird unguarded moments. And I realized she caught me when I fell,” he sounded a little breathless.

“I didn’t know what she’d say, I was terrified to find out. So I just let it sit. I didn’t say anything. Until we were on a mission,” he looked almost apologetic at the thought. “We were sharing a bed in some random Krakow motel, and I woke up screaming. After I calmed down, Nat asked me what I had been dreaming about and I told her. I told her everything. I told her all the things I loved about her. I told her I was afraid of losing her. I bared my soul to her in a dirty motel in the dark. You know what she said?” 

“Hm?” Steve had an idea, but he was enraptured by the tale.

“She told me I didn’t love her. I loved the idea of her. There was a nice person out there for me that wasn’t her. I asked her if she loved me, and she just kissed me on the cheek. Then she rolled over and went back to sleep like the whole thing never happened. I was fucking destroyed.

“Timers were still pretty new then. Not like, rare, but as you can see, this model is pretty old,” he held up his wrist. It sat above his skin, a boring grey color with blocky numbers, zeroed out. “I spent weeks trying to talk to Natasha about what had happened, and all she would say is, ‘there’s someone out there that’s not me,’ like she was some kind of fucking oracle. Finally I had enough, and I told her that if I got a Timer, and it didn’t turn on, she at least had to go on a date with me. And miraculously, she agreed.

“So our first date was me taking her to a weird fish and chips place a block away from the Timer store, because I was right,” he smiled triumphantly. “But, being Nat, she still wasn’t convinced.”

Steve chuckled, of course not.

“She kept waiting for my Timer to turn on. It became like a tick, almost. In the morning she would wake up and look at my wrist. I’d finally had enough, and I told her if she was going to keep insisting that there was someone else, the least she could do was assure me that there was someone else for her too. And you know Nat,” he laughed.

“She doesn’t back down from a challenge,” Steve chuckled quietly.

“She does not,” Clint smiled fondly. “Anyways, her Timer went off the moment they turned it on and she looked at me. Then she cussed me out and disappeared for a couple weeks, but I wasn’t worried,” he laughed again. “When she came back it was like a weight had been lifted off of us. It still took a while. We still had a lot of trust to build, a lot of foundation to work on. But I knew that she’d be there to catch me when I fell.” Clint almost looked misty.

“Wow,” was all Steve could think to say. He felt a little misty. He saw the way they looked at each other. Beyond just partners in the field, they were so bonded they looked like a ballet when they moved together. And yet, they were so fiercely independent from each other. They frequently went on solo trips, even occasionally dated other people, but there was never any malice or anger between them. Just understanding, and always love. “Do you ever feel trapped by it? The idea that there’s only One person for you?”

“Nah,” he shrugged. “She’s my everything. But we can’t always be everything for each other, things ebb and flow. We have an understanding. We always come home,” he said simply. “Home is wherever she is, as corny as that sounds.”

Steve was jealous, which was an emotion he didn’t often feel. He wanted so badly to feel at home again. He wanted so badly to feel unlonely again. He was so shattered that the people he loved were dead. “That’s really beautiful,” he managed to say finally. And it was. He was so happy for them. “I met someone today,” he said after a moment.

“Oooo,” Clint wiggled his eyebrows. “Did this someone make your metaphorical Timer tick?”

“She had a counting timer,” he said and awaited Clint’s reaction. When there wasn’t more than a raised eyebrow, he decided to continue. “She had another 47 years.”

“Oooof, that sucks,” the archer said, blowing out a breath.

“She said it was freeing. She knew that she was going to have something and didn’t have to spend her time and energy trying to figure out what it would be, and she didn’t have to tie herself to it until then.”

Clint nodded in understanding.

“Honestly, it sounded great,” Steve said wistfully. “The idea of just knowing something, and not being trapped in it.”

“Are you going to get a Timer?” 

“I’m not sure if I believe in ‘The One,” Steve sighed. “I loved two people. They were my soulmates. I was so lucky to have two people that I truly adored and loved, for however briefly. I don’t think I get that again. There is no One for me, I already had that.” It was the first time he’d admitted it out loud. 

“Well,” Clint said after a moment, breaking the sad silence. “I think that’s a load of shit.”

“Excuse me?” Steve was taken back.

“There’s no saying there’s isn’t someone else out here in this world for you,” he shrugged. “You died. You basically get a do over, right?”

“I don’t think that’s how it works, Clint.”

“Maybe not. I don’t know. Neither do you. Tony might, but he’s probably the only one.”

“I’m certainly not asking him.”

“I’m not saying you have to,” Clint rolled his eyes. “I’m saying that if you want to, you should try. The worst thing that happens is you stay on that pity parade and end up with a tiny scar when you take out your broken timer. Best thing is you get whatever you’re looking for by asking me that question in the first place,” he said knowingly.

Steve felt exposed by the revelation. He didn’t rarely feel stunned, but he didn’t know what to say next. He heard the sound of a beer can opening. 

“So, my turn for a question.” Not giving Steve an opportunity to object, “how was the sex with Timer girl?”

Steve narrowed his eyes at the archer, who was smiling cockily at his end of the couch. How did he know?

As if reading his mind, Clint pointed to a spot on his own neck while looking at Steve’s, “you have a bite mark, right about here.”

Steve surprised them both with a laugh, “I don’t kiss and tell.” 

“Aww, come on! I just learned Captain America has casual sex, and he’s not even going to tell me the details?!” Clint gave an exaggerated pout. 

Steve rolled his eyes, “Captain America is the chaste one. Steve Rogers thinks people should consensually and safely fill their needs.”

“Sex for fun?! In our good, christian neighborhood? The scandal!” Clint mocked and they dissolved into laughter. 

They spent more of the evening talking and laughing before Clint decided to turn homeward bound to check on Natasha before it got too late.

Steve gave him a hug, “Thank you for tonight, Clint. I appreciate it.”

“Any time, dude! Your couch is comfy, and the liquor store down the street has the good beer,” he laughed and gave him a clap on the shoulder. “But the tower is home too, so I hope you’ll come back soon too.”

Steve just gave him a tired smile, “I’ll think about it. Goodnight, Clint.”

Steve set to work tidying up, doing all the things he should have done earlier in the day. He absently straightened the couch back out, washed the dishes, and put on his shoes and jacket to take the trash out to the dumpster. He walked down the stairs and down the alley to the dumpster and threw the bag in. 

Then he kept walking.

The streets were silent save for the thrum of cars in the distance, and the buzz of streetlights. The pavement was damp from a light fog that had rolled into the area. The warm sunny afternoon had given away to a cold, clammy night. But Steve couldn’t feel it as he walked through the streets.

Before he knew it, before he could really register where his feet were taking him, he stared up at the bright sign.

“Anytime Timer!” it shown into the dark. Before this moment, he wondered why there would be a 24 hour Timer store. But he thinks he understands now. 

He knows for certain, standing in the glow of the sign, if he doesn’t walk through those doors right now, he never will. 

And he also knows for certain, that he doesn’t want to be alone anymore. And even if he’s pretty sure this won't work, he has to try.

So he walks through the gleaming doors, out of the wet and cold, into the serene and warm. He doesn’t listen to the sales pitch, but signs all the correct paperwork.

The new models just got in. The ones Tony designed. There’s a twinge of something he doesn’t recognize in his chest as he picks one out. It’s got rounded steel blue edges. It’s practical, and it’ll be easy to hide until he gets around to getting it taken back out, as he’s learned there’s a waiting period.

The female technician that’s helping him is bubbly for it being 3 am. She chit chats as she preps.

The alcohol pad is cold on his skin and it almost knocks some sense into him.

“One,” she starts to count. “Two,” and before he can think to stop her, she presses the button on the placement gun. “Three,” she says lifting the gun, revealing the Timer now in his wrist. “See? Easy peasy!” She grins as she grabs her tablet to begin the activation.

He can’t stop looking at the Timer in his wrist, and the weird hollow stinging.

She’s tapping away before looking up, “ready?”

Does he have a choice? He nods.

“Get ready to meet your One!”

This isn’t going to work, he thinks.

Blink.

It’s just a weird way to get a new scar.

Blink.

He’ll still be alone.

Blink.

5 days.

Shit.


	2. Breathe

Steve stumbles back into his apartment and into his studio. His moves are feverish as he tears through his supplies, making a haphazard pile on the floor next to his easel. He digs through the tiny closet packed with canvases until he finds a matching pair.

He paints until the sun comes up, then he sleeps in between coats. Then he paints some more. 

Sleep.

Paint.

Sleep.

Paint.

There’s a pounding knock on his door that breaks his feverish trance. He looks for a clock, but realizes he never put one in here.

He looks at his Timer instead. 2 Days.

There’s another pounding knock on his door as he tries to recall doing anything but sleeping and painting for the last three days. The carnage of art supplies, and the crust of an errant PB & J sandwich tells him that the answer is “no.”

“Steve, open the door,” Natasha calls. She shouldn’t be here, she should be resting.

The door swings open and Natasha is standing behind Clint, who had apparently been the one trying to break down Steve’s door.

“You weren’t answering your phone,” she said matter-of-factly staring him down.

“I was busy,” he said, not really sure what he was going to say if they asked what he was busy with.

Natasha just cocked an eyebrow. “We have a mission. All hands on deck.”

He frowned, “You and Tony aren’t cleared.”

“I’m going to be in the control room,” she replied. 

“Tony was cleared a couple days ago, but left on vacation. Bruce went to get him, and we’ll be meeting at the drop point,” Clint filled in the rest.

His jaw was set in a hard line, but he just nodded. “When do we have to leave?” 

“You have time to brush your teeth and grab your bag,” Clint said, stepping into the apartment.

“And take a quick shower,” Natasha wrinkled her nose and followed.

“Okay, I won’t be long.” He disappeared to the bathroom to wash the paint and sweat off of his skin. 

He thought about the paintings in the other room.

A flash of a smile, still stained with last night’s lipstick, chestnut curls, smooth collarbone and shoulder, covered in a breathy pink chiffon. A moment of laughter in morning sunlight. Close up as they’d rolled in a hotel bed in Paris. 

A strong bare shoulder, gently freckled, small scars here and there, short dark hair on the back of his head, neck twisting as the subject smiled over his shoulder, a smoldering smirk was all that was visible. Close up of a loving jab thrown over his shoulder as he crawled out of their bed one night.

He was afraid of losing them to this countdown. 

Afraid of this countdown, whatever it might mean.

He looked down at the Timer on his wrist, and briefly considered ripping it from his flesh before a knock on the door once again jostled him from his thoughts.

“I said a quick shower, Rogers.” Natasha sighed from the other side of the wood.

He quickly finished up and grabbed his mission bag and they were out the door.

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

“Brucie,” he held up a coconut drink as the scientist walked towards him on the sand.

“Hey, Tony,” he already looked apologetic.

“World ending?” He sipped his drink.

“Not ending, but we have a lead on some critical HYDRA information. We gotta go,” Bruce shrugged. “All hands on deck.”

“What about—”

“Natasha is in the control room, but we gotta go, Tony.”

“How long is this going to last? I’m on vacation,” Tony laid his head back on his chair, soaking in the warm sun.

“I don’t know, man,” he shrugged, linen shirt fluttering in the breeze. Tony liked Bruce’s new laid back style. “A day or two? You can take an even longer vacation when we’re done,” he tried to bargain. “We have to be to the drop point by tomorrow.”

Tony pursed his lips. “Fine, but it better be a quick one. I have things to do, Brucie.” He sat up, “let’s go!” 

He left his coconut in the sand as they walked towards the massive beach house.

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

The details of the mission seemed straight forward. 

A HYDRA facility with hints of a secret weapon was found. Break in, get the weapon, or at least the bad guys with knowledge of the weapon, burn the place to the ground.

The “all hands on deck part” was necessary because of the fact that the base was lodged in the side of German mountain with upwards of 200 HYDRA soldiers, and they were unsure how far into the mountain the base went. 

Bruce and Tony sat in their quinjet as the hologram of the base projected in front of them. Natasha’s voice guided them through the plan.

“Tony, you will be entering through this shaft here,” the hologram zoomed in on a thin shaft, presumably part of the ventilation, that lead deep into the facility. “We have reason to believe this is connected to some rooms that hold HYDRA servers with information on their agents, safe houses, and tech. Once you’ve planted JARVIS there, it’ll be up to you to make your next move.”

“I’m assuming the move isn’t going to be ‘pass go and collect $200?’” He said dryly. 

“No, more like ‘get the fuck out’ or better yet ‘help them search for the alleged secret weapon.’”

“Well, that game sucks, but okay.”

Natasha sighed. “Steve, Bruce, and Clint, you’ll be entering through the front door.”

“Ding-dong, Avon Lady!” Clint’s voice echoed over the speakers.

“I suppose I’ll be doing the entering?” Bruce sighed.

“That’s the plan, big man,” Natasha answered. “From there Steve, you’ll make a b-line to this area,” the hologram zoomed in on the east side of the base, deepest into the mountain. This is where we believe the tech is being kept. The lead engineer on HYDRA weaponry, Christoph Leiner, should be nearby.” An image of an older white man with sharp features and graying temples popped up. “The goal is to capture him alive, in addition to the data Tony gets. We don’t know much about what this side of the base’s layout is, it’s shielded. You’ll be in the dark, but I’ll be building maps from your positioning data as you go. I should be able to tell others where to go if you’re in trouble.”

“Should?” Steve asked. Tony could practically hear the crinkle in his brow. 

“Nothing’s perfect.” She said. “Clint and Bruce, you’ll be going West. This is where they keep a stock of weapons and vehicle components. Blow them up.” 

Clint hooted on the other end of the line. Bruce chuckled at his enthusiasm. 

“Should we be worried about the explosions causing a collapse of the mountainside?” Tony asked.

“We can’t rule it out, but hopefully Bird Boy will think before he detonates,” she said nonchalantly.

“Hey!” 

“I’ll be ready to evac from these points at any moment.” The hologram lit up at two points. “Tony, if you can pick up anyone on your way out, it would be appreciated. Any questions?” She waited for a moment. “Okay, we should be reaching the drop point in a few hours. Bruce and Tony, get some rest. We’ll see you soon.” The hologram disappeared.

“What do you think is in there?” Bruce asked as he settled down onto his bench to get a nap in before the mission.

“Nothing good, I imagine.” Tony crawled into one of the pilot seats of the quinjet to watch the world and sky flyby. Bruce mumbled something behind him as he slipped into sleep.

The night sky blurred past them. He wished he was still on that beach, ignoring all of this.

He looked at his timer. It had turned on 4 days ago. In two hours it would would be his Zero day. He really hoped his One wasn’t a bad guy. That’d be awkward. Hopefully the mission would be over quickly and quietly, and it’d be some beautiful person he’d meet in a bar celebrating their success afterwards.

He wasn’t worthy of that, he thought. It was definitely going to be a bad guy. 

When his Timer started ticking down in the middle of the night a few days ago, he panicked. He pulled up the Timer systems back end and combed through the data, trying to reveal who it was. He couldn’t, the system, the technology, didn’t work like that. The match in his profile would simply read ????? until the Timer went off. 

It didn’t stop him from trying to figure it out for two days straight before he just decided it would be better to avoid it all together on an island. Timer can’t go off if you can’t be found, right? 

Fate doesn’t work like that. He’s not that lucky.

He closes his eyes and tries not to think about it.

It must work, because some time later Bruce is shaking his shoulder.

“Almost go time, Tone. Suit up.”

Tony blinks and pulls himself out of the chair. 

Natasha is on the comms going over the plan again as they draw near. 

Down the shaft. Find the servers. JARVIS. Choose your own adventure slash make sure no one dies.

Down the shaft. He steps into his suit.

Find the servers. The HUD comes to life.

JARVIS. The quinjet door opens.

Choose your own adventure. He steps out of the hovering aircraft.

Make sure no one dies. He hurtles through the dark towards the side of a mountain.

He finds the cover to the shaft about 5 meters North of where the intel said and blows it off. It’s narrow, but he still fits. He prays it doesn’t get any smaller.

Instead of quickly shooting through, he slowly lowers himself in with his thrusters. He doesn’t want to make too much noise, and he doesn’t know exactly where this is leading him. 

After about 10 minutes of descending deeper and deeper he hits a fork in the shaft. 

“Any ideas which way the yellow brick road goes, wicked witch?”

“Try East,” Natasha says, not responding to the insult. He takes the right fork East.

“It’s go time, fellas!” Clint says over the comms. No matter what mission it is, Clint sounds like a kid in a candy store.

The blast shakes the whole facility, and Tony hears the Hulk’s roar echoing through. He should almost be there. 

He finally comes up on some vent hatches, peering through them. The first one is a locker room. Empty, presumably because of the alarms blaring through the facility. The second one is a hallway, and the shaft presumably follows it. He scans ahead and JARVIS picks up the magnetic signature of servers humming away, which is the good news.

The bad news is that the server room runs on an entirely different ventilation system. Honestly, he’s proud they thought of it. The super computers need round the clock intense cooling to keep running at peak capacity. Connecting them to the wrong ducts would cause havoc. Nevertheless, it creates more work for him. 

He drops down into the guard room in front of the server room with a crash. He rolls his eyes as the bullets bounce off him and hits the two men with repulsor blasts. It won't kill them, but the’ll be out for an hour at best. Why do they always put the simpletons on guard duty?

The lock mechanism on the door is less simple, he notes as he scans it.

“Jay, are you seeing what I’m seeing?”

“If you’re seeing that the lock is wired to destruct the servers if it’s tampered with, then yes, sir. I am seeing it.”

“Tony are you to the servers yet?” 

It’s like Natasha knew how to bug him.

“Yeah, small problem on the door though. Might take me a few minutes.”

“Clint, Steve, status report?”

There was noise from Clint’s comm, and another roar from Hulk ripped through the facility. “Slowly but surely, darling. Their men seem too stupid to run, so they’re all here to party.” There was another boom from his comm before it clicked off.

“Steve?”

“En route to Leiner’s lab.” It sounded like he was running. Tony could swear he heard the sound of a body bounce of the shield as he ran.

He had to focus. He set his comm to Emergency Contact only so he wouldn’t be distracted by any chatter. 

It was a biometric lock, with a secondary numerical code. The incapacitated guards were certainly not high enough security to have access.

Think, Tony. Think.

The small metal trash can held the usual paper waste, but also a broken coffee mug. The Keurig in the corner had been stocked with paper cups next to it. There’s a chance it came from a different part of the facility. He picked it up and JARVIS scanned it to lift prints. He held his breath, hoping for a usable one.

“One print isolated, sir. Shall I print it?” 

Present Tony thanked Past Tony for putting a quick 3D printer in the suit for any field repairs. The panel on his thigh opened up to reveal a silicone finger cover. He slipped it on his own and held his breath as he pressed it to the pad.

The lock blinked green and the screen changed to a numerical pad. 

“Jay, scan screen for microcracks and damaged pressure sensors.” His HUD lit up with what looked like a heat map of the screen. 

Five red points appeared on the keypad where it was ever so slightly damaged internally. “Anyway we can tell if any numbers are worse than the others?” 

“The digit 5 seems to have double the wear of the other numbers.” 

“Anything else we can tell, Jay? We can’t fuck this up.”

“The wear on the glass seems to indicate the least amount of skin oils on the digit 9.”

“So 9’s the last number? What is the oil concentration on the other numbers?”

“5 has 1.37x the oil of the other numbers, which go in order from most to least as 6, 8, 2, 9.”

He sure hoped this work. 

5, 6, 8, 5, 2, 9.

The lock seemed to think for a moment before it blinked green and he heard the massive mechanism in the door slide open, allowing him entry into the chilled server room. He let's out a breathe he didn't realize he was holding.

There are no guards in here. He makes his way to one of the service portals before plugging a transmitter to a port. “Take it away, Jay.”

He turns his comms back on and gets the last bit of Clint’s update. “We’ve got a good number of guys barricaded with a few trucks into one of the dining halls and we’re on our way to the weapons hanger now.”

As if he was waiting his turn, Steve’s emergency beacon starts signaling. 

“Shit,” Tony, Clint, and Natasha say in unison over the comms. 

“Tony, you’re closest to him. Did you—”

“JARVIS is at work, where am I headed?”

“He’s three levels down, and about 800 yards to the East. Uploading his mapped coordinates now.”

Tony was already shooting down the hall to the stairwell. As much as Steve pissed him off, he didn’t want to lose anyone on the team he called a family. 

A man ran passed him up the stairs, and Tony briefly considered stopping him, but Steve’s signal was still pinging in his ears. He was running out of time.

He shot through the hallways, a trail of HYDRA bodies leading the way. Say what you will about the man, Steve was efficient and deadly.

“Tony, you’re coming up on his signal,” Natasha said coolly in his ear. 

He stopped and crept along the hallway closer and closer to the turn in the hall that light from an open door streamed down.

“I always hoped I’d get to examine you in person, Captain. Do what my predecessors didn’t and perfect the serum.” Tony could hear a man saying. Leiner, he assumed.

Tony peeked around the corner. He couldn’t see either of them through the door. He scanned the hallway and picked up two heat signatures further into the room behind the wall. One was shorter and thinner, pacing back and forth, grabbing things. One ran extra hot, body contorted at a weird angle with his arms raised above his head. Tony pressed a button in his glove, and his suit went into Lite mode, serving as chest protection only. Not the most perfect for combat, but better for sneaking down narrow hallways to retrieve wayward blonds.

“We were so close, with our near perfect weapon. But nothing can compare to this,” Leiner sounded in awe. He could hear Steve thrash against his bonds. “Now, now, Captain. Don’t make this difficult. Is that a—?”

Tony continued down the hall, he just had to get the angle right and he could take out Leiner. 

He slipped through the doorway. The German leaned closer to Steve to inspect something on Steve’s arm, giving Tony a better look at his teammate’s condition as he lie strapped to a table, tilted up for the engineer to examine and prod. There was some large tears in his suit, stained red at their edges. His cowl had been torn off, leaving his hair mussed. There was blood on his nose. Tony caught his eye.

Beedlelelet

Beedlelelet

Beedlelelet

Fuck.

Tony’s eyes immediately shot to the same thing Leiner had been looking at. Steve’s flashing, chiming Timer.

Steve had a Timer? 

Tony looked at his own flashing Timer. The jingly tune playing,

Shit.

Suddenly, Leiner was also looking at Tony, and his flashing Timer as well.

“Well, this is one for the storybooks,” he laughed.

Damn.

“Too bad it’s going to be a short lived love story,” Leiner shrugs as he pulls a pistol out and takes aim at Tony. 

God fucking dammit.

Tony lunges at the engineer, grappling for his weapon. They hit the ground hard, and the gun goes off over his head. 

His ears are ringing, but he’s still swinging on the other man who’s trying to get the gun back on Tony. Leiner rolls them, hitting his already ringing head with the butt of his gun.

Tony closes his eyes takes a breath, preparing for it to be his last as he hears the gun cock. The weight of Leiner crushing it out of him. He thinks only that he wishes Steve didn’t have to lose anymore family.

But then the weight is gone. 

The muffled screech makes Tony open his eyes, as he watches Steve pull the engineer up by his neck, and in one quick motion snap it, Steve's eyes blank with rage. Leiner’s body goes limp and Steve drops him.

Shit.

Steve looks at the body on the ground. Then to Tony.

Fuck.

There’s confusion in his eye as he looks past Tony’s eyes, to his Timer.

Damn.

“Guys?” Clint breaks through the comms. “Did you get Steve? Because this place is going to blow, and it’s not going to end well.”

God fucking dammit.

“I got him,” Tony said, eyes still locked on Steve.

“And Leiner?” Natasha said hopefully.

“He’s dead,” Steve said flatly. 

“Shit,” she hissed. “Tony, how’s JARVIS’s info harvesting?”

“Almost done, sir. But it’s heavily encrypted, even for me. We’re missing parts of the key to decode it from the bit I’ve been able to decrypt.” 

“Data upload ETA?” Tony said, finally standing up from the floor.

“45 seconds.”

“That’s good,” Clint said, sounding a little harried. “The detonator is going to blow in 2 minutes. So, uh, let’s go.”

“What the fuck, Clint?!” Natasha yelled over the comms as Steve grabbed his cowl and shield from the Table.

“Well, it’s either that, or their self destruct brings the mountain down on the city below instead of just the facility,” Clint said, panting into the mic. “Hulk and I will be at Drop point A, ETA 1 minute.” 

“Tony,” Natasha said smoothly, trying to keep the panic from rising. “You and Steve can make it out of that airshaft in time, right?”

“We’ll find out,” he said as his suit enveloped him once more. “It’s going to be a tight fit.”

They ran down the hall to the nearest vent cover and Tony blasted it open. Steve hesitated. This was no time to be awkward.

“Shield up,” Tony barked. 

Steve raised his shield above his head, and Tony grasped him tightly around the waist. They were going to have to bash through some smaller vents to make it out. Steve stepped his feet on Tony’s boots, and they blasted up through the metal and rock. This was going to hurt in the morning.

It felt like an eternity of bashing metal and shock vibrations, but finally they blasted through the surface onto the sunny mountainside, breaking apart and landing roughly among the rocks and vegetation.

He laid on the ground, looking at the sky. 

Breathe in.

“They’re out,” he heard Clint say. 

Breathe out.

“On our way,” Natasha replied.

Breathe in.

“Tony?” Steve groaned from his rocky resting place.

Breathe out.

The ground rumbled with the explosion deep in the Earth below them.

Breathe in.

He looked over at Steve. His Timer. Zeroed out.

Breathe out.

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Steve and Tony don't look at each other the entire flight back to base. 

Steve is mad. Maybe it's confusion. Maybe it's fear. Steve doesn't know what be feels.

He just can't stop playing the part where Leiner puts his gun to Tony's forehead and then Steve is feeling his spinal column snap under his hands. 

He vaguely remembers the bubbly Timer tech saying while someone was your One, it didn't mean you'd automatically fall in love with them. Some people hated each other for years before falling in love. 

He didn't hate Tony. Tony was his friend, sort of. He was his team member. His family. 

But he certainly didn't love Tony. But I guess he would? Were Timers just random self fulfilling prophecies? Maybe it was wrong. There was no such thing as the One. Steve had true love with two people and they were gone.

They were gone. 

Steve was alone.

His zeroed out Timer said otherwise.

"We'll be back at base in 5," Natasha's voice broke through the noise in his head.

He was going to have to explain why Leiner was dead. What he did. Why he did it.

The truth is Steve didn't know why. He would do anything to protect his teammates, but he had the bad guy already, he didn't have to kill him. Steve preferred not to kill people, honestly. His body count kept him up some nights as it is, he didn't want it to grow. 

But seeing the dark barrel of the gun against that olive skin. The blood matted in Tony's dark hair. Steve saw red. He felt the same kind of desperation he felt when he watch Bucky plummet into the ravine. When he listened to Peggy's voice as he crashed into the ice.

It's fear and confusion and desperation all rolled into one. 

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Sitting in the conference room, going over the facts of the mission. 

"Weapons cache and spare parts have been blown to bits. It's certainly not their full stock, but from the shipping manifest it's certainly going to put a dent in their operations for a while," Clint grinned.

“JARVIS was able to harvest a couple petabytes of data,” Tony reported. “Unfortunately, that engineer was really good at data security. Not too good for us, but it’s going to be slow going. And the couple documents we’ve been able to decrypt are also coded like nothing we’ve ever seen before.”

“We need a cipher,” Steve said quietly, lost in thought.

“We might have a better lead had Leiner not died,” Natasha looked at Steve. "What happened?”

Steve’s jaw set tightly. “I was captured, he was prattling on about the serum and weapons. Tony came in and our—”

“And I spooked him,” Tony cut in. “It was a freak accident. He reached for his gun to shoot me, and Steve broke free from the exam table. One of those big, Frankenstein's monster looking things,” he held his hands out, miming the shape and size. “Damn thing rocked too hard when the not-so-jolly Red, White, and Blue giant over there gave it the what for. Fell right over on that German bastard.” Tony looked Steve dead in the eyes.

Natasha’s eyebrows arched.

“You’d think an engineer would brace his equipment better,” Steve added simply.

Natasha seemed to accept it.

They’d keep decoding what they could, and keep looking for the cipher. There were no special weapons they found. 

Steve couldn’t wait to get out of this room. 

Away from Tony. 

He held the door open for Clint who was right behind him.

“Is that a Timer?” the archer blurted out. Everyone stopped dead in their tracks.

“I—”

“Is it zeroed out?!” It was like he couldn’t stop himself. 

“Why Steve!” Tony said excitedly, “who knew you partook in the latest of Stark Industries holdings!” He tried to sound confident, but it felt slightly panicked. “Who’s the lucky someone?”

Steve gave him a look that could kill a lesser man. 

“Why don’t we leave Steve alone,” Bruce gently pleaded to the group. “I’m sure this is an emotional time for him.”

“Where’s the fun in that, Brucie?” Tony clapped the scientist on the shoulder.

“Tony?” Natasha said, her tone sounded dangerous. His smile faltered as he looked into her calculating eyes. “I thought you took your Timer off.” 

Every eye turned to Tony, who for the first time in his life, felt truly like a deer in the headlights. 

Their eyes all landed on his zeroed out Timer. 

It would be comical in any other circumstance, watching the wide eyes of Bruce and Clint look back and forth from Tony’s wrist, to Steve’s. Natasha’s however, stayed firmly on Tony’s. And Steve’s on Tony’s. And Tony wasn’t sure where to look, or what to do.

“You’re such an asshole,” Steve said before slipping out of the corridor and into a stairwell, leaving the rest of the Avengers in stunned silence.

If Tony had just let it be, Steve thought, they could have told them on their own time. They could have hid it. They could have just dealt with it in private. But typical Tony, he had to show off. He couldn’t just be subtle or keep his bullshit to himself for a single second. And now they were going to have to explain everything to the team. 

They were going to have to do this with everyone around them knowing the inevitable. 

He ran up the 10 flights of stairs to his floor, desperate to escape this moment.

_______

“What the fuck, Tony?” Clint said, shock turning to anger. “Why would you fuck with him like that?” 

Before Tony could respond, Clint stalked away towards the elevator. Natasha wordlessly followed him.

After the metal doors closed Bruce asked softly, “do you need anything?”

“No.”

“This will be a funny story some day,” Bruce said, and began shepherding Tony towards the elevator. “But for now, we all need some rest.”

Bruce deposited Tony on his floor before leaving for his own. 

What the fuck was wrong with Tony? Why couldn’t he just let sleeping dogs lie? Why did he cover for Steve, just to poke the bear?

He wasn’t worthy of the love this Timer thought he would have.

Maybe Timers just went off at random, and it was some bullshit self fulfilling prophecy. There had to be a science to it, rather than just “oxytocin levels” like the original scientists claimed. 

He’d started looking into it when be bought the company. 

Then he spent days trying to search the back end of the system for clues when is Timer started counting.

But he had to know how it worked. If it was random. He had to know.

He contemplated showering the blood and sweat off of him, but opted instead for heading for his lab.

He had to know.

He had to know if he was worthy.

He had to know why he watched Steve snap a man's neck for threatening him.

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Normally Steve liked to work out to burn off energy when he was in a mood.

But he felt so endlessly tired.

He’s spent the last five days going at a breakneck pace. Even the sleep he’d gotten before the mission in between painting had been fitful at best. 

He just wanted warmth and comfort.

He showered the blood and dirt off his body. The journey back to the surface had left him full of dirt and mud, and more than a few cuts and bruises. He took care to wash them, but he didn’t have the energy to bandage them.

He barely had the energy to slip into a pair of boxer briefs before falling into his bed.

The bed felt like a safe haven. He’d made sure he had the same bed both of his homes. He was too tired to make it back to his flat. 

He didn’t want to face that life. He didn’t really want to live in this one anymore either. But he really couldn’t go back and see those paintings. Live in those moments.

The sheets felt cold as he crawled under them. 

He wished Bucky was here. Peggy was here. Did this mean he never loved them?

He knew that wasn’t true. He did love them with every fiber of his being. All he’d ever wanted was to have them back.

But he never would.

Would loving Tony mean that he loved them any less? Falling in love with Peggy didn’t make him love Bucky less. They were two totally different loves, different people. 

Loving three people felt selfish. Having the love of three people felt selfish. 

But he didn’t love Tony. At least not yet. 

It was all just so much, he thought, as he slipped dizzily into unconsciousness.

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

"Steve?" 

He wasn't sure where the voice was coming from. It was dark, and warm, and he had no idea what time it was.

"Steeeve, come on, buddy." He recognized the voice as Clint. 

He was in the tower, in his bed, there was a blanket over his head. He lifted the blanket of and squinted. Even with the low lamp light it was too bright compared to the pitch black blanket nest.

"Hey there," Clint smiled gently down at him. 

"Hey," Steve whispered, voice gravely with exhaustion. "What time is it?" He rubbed his face. 

"Well, it's around 5 pm on Saturday."

"Wha?" Steve did the math in his head. He'd been asleep for nearly 22 hours.

"Yeah, so, I thought I'd interrupt this depression nap with some take out."

"It's not a—" 

Clint just blinked at him. Okay, it was a depression nap.

"I brought some spaghetti from that really mediocre place on Bernard that has the really good garlic bread." He motioned for Steve to sit up and scoot over. "I also brought you lots of water, you dehydrated dummy." He placed a bag of drinks and a bag of food on the bed. "So put on some pants and I'll grab some forks, and we can eat."

"In here?"

"Steve, it's not a good mope if you're not eating pasta in bed."

Steve couldn't argue with that logic, he thought as he slipped out and headed towards the bathroom, not that he wanted to leave his bed anyways. 

He and Clint ate in silence on the plush bed watching bad reality TV. 

When they were thoroughly full of carbs, and the tv had lost interest, they both slipped down and laid there, the din if the tv in the background. 

"It doesn't mean they didn't matter, you know."

Steve had been trying not to think about it. 

"You still loved them. Who knows Timers had been around then, which one of them it had gone off for."

"Do you think it's possible someone could have more than one One?"

"I don't know," Clint said. "But if you would have asked me three years ago if I would meet Thor, a literal god, or even that Timers would exist when I was a kid, I wouldn't have believed you."

"I feel like I'm betraying them."

"I know. But it's not betrayal to want love again. Was it betraying to sleep with Rachel?"

"Rachelle. And no. But that's different. It wasn't love."

"Is it betrayal to have other friends? They were also your friends."

"That's a false equivalency, Clint." He was starting to get annoyed. 

"I'm just saying, you've got a second chance at life. It doesn't erase what you had. But it means you get the opportunity to love again." Clint sat up and started collecting their dishes. "Regardless of how you feel it right now, you're not going to be able to avoid it forever. Also," he motioned around the dim room, "you can't stay in here forever." 

He could try.

"I'll see you in the gym tomorrow, buddy. Nat wants to spar and I'm tired of getting my ass kicked so it's your turn." The archer walked towards the door.

"Will Tony be there?" Steve asked, staring at the ceiling. 

"Probably not," he shrugged. "See you tomorrow!" 

The door clicked closed behind him and Steve was alone again.

It all still felt like too much to deal with. He's spent years dealing with world crises. Being a public figure. Leading teams and top secret missions.

But right now he wasn't Captain America.

He was Steve Rogers.

And Steve Rogers was tired. 

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Tony sat on the balcony in the dark drinking. The city looked like glittering circuit board from up here, though he was glad for the glass protecting him from the elements on the cold and rainy fall night.

He was tired. He hadn’t slept in two days. And he still couldn’t figure it out how it worked, or why it worked.

He had spent at least 16 or the last 48 hours using JARVIS’s help to go through academic studies, anecdotal evidence, blind studies, and testimonials. 

His conclusion is that it isn’t bullshit. 

That no matter what happened, there was no keeping people apart. And that in the end, even if it took years, they fell in love. 

Out of all the people in the world, it felt almost like a joke it was Steve Rogers.

It felt improbable, if not impossible. 

What if he’d never survived the ice? What if they’d never found him, and he was alive, just in stasis, would Tony’s Timer never have turned on? Would it have linked with someone else? If someone’s One dies, sometimes their Timers turn back on, but not always. 

Was he only worthy of love in an impossible instance?

He didn’t know the answer to any of it. So he drank. If he got drunk enough, he could sleep.

Maybe he could even sleep without dreaming about the heat on his back and hands in his hair. Or blue eyes that crinkled at the edges.

The sound of the door sliding open interrupted his silence, followed by soft bare footsteps on the concrete. 

Steve walked to the edge of the balcony where rain drops collected on the glass, looking over the edge at the sparkling horizon and sighed.

Tony wondered if Steve knew he was there as he watched him. His shoulders looked tense. He was wearing his classic Steve post-workout comfy clothes, and Tony hated that he knew that. 

He opted out of words, and instead settled for taking another sip of his drink, ice cubes clinking against the glass. 

Tony knew Steve was a better solider than to react to a surprise. 

"Sorry to interrupt your party," Steve said, not looking to face Tony, but not turning to leave either. 

"I think you need three people to party," Tony replied dryly, and he could swear he heard Steve chuckle.

They sat in silence for a minute, the tension rising. Neither of them wanting to make the first move. But Tony's drink was empty and he was growing bored of just sitting there.

"Are going to sit or are you going to brood, Captain?"

Steve sighs and pads over to where Tony is sitting and sits in the chair opposite of him. There's a lamp next to him, but he doesn't move to turn it on. 

Tony watched the other man move in the darkness. He looked tired, the shadows from the cloud diffused moonlight seemed to be etched into his face. The white cotton of his shirt stretched when he moved, and Tony swore he was buying his shirts a size down on purpose. His hair was still damp, confirming Tony's post gym assessment. His hands fidgeted nervously, and Tony noticed the his raw knuckles.

"Getting in fights, Rogers?"

"Only with a punching bag," he flexed the tender skin.

"Was it made out of sandpaper?" Steve's skin was by no means delicate. 

"Funny thing," Steve started, "the new synthetic material they make those out of doesn't get smoother the more you hit it, like leather or canvas."

"Wasn't that a new bag?"

"Yeah."

"Gonna have to take it out of your paycheck," Tony shrugged. It elicited a smile our of the blond man.

"I think I'll manage."

"Why'd you do it?" Tony's eyes settled on Steve's fingers, smoothing over the Timer on his wrist. 

"Felt like hitting something for a few hours," he said tightly. 

"I meant—"

"I know what you meant, Tony," Steve sighed. 

"I wanted to see if I was worthy of someone loving me," Tony answered instead. His voice was steady, but quiet. He looked down at his empty glass, and was mad he admitted it mostly sober.

"Tony," Steve breathed out and leaned forward towards him. He knew Steve was looking at him but couldn't bring himself to look up. "Of course you're worthy of love." Tony could practically hear his brow wrinkle with the confusion in his voice. 

"It was just a day of surprises," Tony said flatly. 

Steve just made a noise of agreement. "You don't deserve the things I've said," he said softly. "And even without this," he tapped his wrist, "I want to be a better friend to you.

"You've done a lot for me," he continued. "And I've been, as Clint would say, kind of a dick. And I'm sorry."

Tony just nodded. This isn't what he expected. 

"There's a lot about the world now that feels unbelievable. This is one of the things I have the hardest time believing," he tapped Tony's wrist. Tony hadn't realized Steve had gotten that close.

"Sorry to disappoint, but I've spent the better part of two days trying to disprove it," Tony said quietly. 

Steve's expression changed into something unreadable.

"That's not—" he sighed. "I'm not disappointed. I'm just confused." He admitted. 

"I'm tired," Tony said, not responding to the other man. He wasn't sure what to make of what he had said. 

Steve just nodded and stood up quietly, walking towards the door. 

"I'll see you tomorrow," he said softly. He turned to open the door, but stopped. "Tony," it was barely a whisper in the dark, "you are worthy."

As the door to the balcony closed, the floodgates of Tony's eyes opened.

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Tony didn't sleep that night either, opting for his favorite past time, escapism in the lab.

His stomach growled, he couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten solid food, not just alcohol or smoothies. He asked JARVIS to order some more snacks for the lab, as well as some lunch, noticing it was clear into the day.

"Captain Rogers is currently on his way down with what appears to be a lunch spread, sir," the AI reported. 

"He what? Why?" 

JARVIS was smart enough not to answer the rhetorical question. 

Tony didn't know whether to keep working or clean up, instead just freezing in indecision. 

"Tony?"

I guess that solved his dilemma.

"Steve," he said, trying to hide the surprise in his voice. "To what do I owe the pleasure?" 

"I, uh," he held up the tray of food. Assorted grabbables like fruit and cut veggies and dip, some quartered sandwiches with salami, cheese, and mustard. There were even a couple kinds of cookies. "JARVIS said you hadn't had lunch."

"JARVIS is a traitor and I didn't know you were stay at home mom level good at making a… lunch spread? Is that what this is?" He strode forward and plucked a grape off the tray before turning around and walking back to his work. 

"I guess? I just thought snacks would be easier than a full meal if you're working." Steve shrugged and set the tray down on an empty side table. 

Tony stopped, struck by the thoughtfulness. "Oh. Thank you," He said quietly. Stillness crept between them for a moment before Steve started walking around the room.

"I've never really been down here," he said, looking at the various work tables filled with different things, knowing better than to touch. "Reminds me of Howard's workshop." 

"He wishes," Tony was suddenly annoyed at the mention of his father. Too irritated to focus, he just started at his current project, sandwich in hand.

"What are you working on, if you don't mind me asking?" Steve said, completing his lap around the lab.

"I mind," Tony said coldly. "Did you need something, or?" 

"Oh," Steve's shoulders fell. "No, I just wanted to bring you some lunch. Sorry," his tone went from soft and bright to closed off and flat. Tony felt like the worst person in the world as Steve walked back out the door. 

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

The new punching bag wasn't there yet, so Steve slipped into the pool instead. His knuckles could use one more day anyways. 

He liked swimming so much as a kid, but since the ice it was less fun. At least this pool was therapy pool temperature at 90 degrees, which made it a lot easier.

He swam a lap. Then two. Then three. Then 400.

He came up for air on his 402nd lap to see Tony standing there. He faltered and sputtered a bit from surprise before regaining his composure and swimming to the edge of the pool.

"So you can't be surprised on land, but the water you can be. Coincidentally, how do you feel about pool parties and surprise parties?" Tony quipped halfheartedly, hands in his pockets.

"This is the only time you've been good at stealth," Steve replied.

"You know you just swam like, 10 and a half miles, right? You've been swimming for hours. Are your hands even pruney? That's unfair."

"Did you need something?" Steve matched his cold tone from earlier in the day. He was the last person he expected to see here.

Tony hurried to the edge of the pool and sat down, pulling his pant legs up as he sat down

"I'm sorry." He slipped his feet into the water. "That's warm, wow."

"You literally built this pool, Tony." Steve just raised an annoyed eyebrow.

"I just… forgot. I don't swim that often. Ever. I dont think I've swam in like, years now that I think about it?" He kicked his feet back and forth slowly. "Anyways. I'm sorry for being a massive dick earlier." He looked at Steve, genuinely ashamed.

"I haven't been sleeping well, or, like, at all, and you just really caught me off guard last night. Which isn't an excuse for me being a dick today. But, yeah." The words spilled out of his mouth.

Steve wanted to be angry, but he understood. This whole thing was weird and confusing and awkward. 

"You were a dick," Steve acknowledged, Tony just stoically nodded. "But I understand. I apologize if I intruded." 

"No! Not at all. Honestly, it'd be nice to have someone in the lab to remind me to eat. Bruce forgets too and I basically just ignore JARVIS."

Steve gave him a soft half smile, "good to know." He paused. "Have you really not gone swimming in years?"

"I never really thought about it, but I haven't gone swimming since before Afghanistan," his face darkened at the memory of his face being plunged into cold buckets of water, the car battery shocking him with each dunk.

Steve hummed an acknowledgment. "The first time I went swimming out of the ice I had a panic attack. The water was too cold. This," he flicked some water at Tony, leaving dark spots on his pants, "is warm like a therapy pool though."

"Hey!" Tony kicked some water back at Steve who laughed. 

"Also you have a water slide and a diving board, and honestly I would have killed for that as a kid and as an adult," Steve said wistfully. "We really should have a pool party sometime."

Tony nodded in agreement. "I should probably learn to swim again before that though."

"I'd be happy to teach you sometime," Steve said softly, not needing to acknowledge the shared trauma. Tony opened his mouth to say something but Steve cut him off, "another time when you've gotten some sleep." 

Tony pouted, "fair." Steve couldn't help but notice how plush his lips looked when he did that. How beautiful his eyes looked from his angle as he looked down at Steve. Long, dark eyelashes curling up. How tired he looked.

"I think I am actually getting pruney now though, so," he started swimming towards the ladder. "I'm going to shower and get some sleep," he hoisted himself out of the pool. "You should too, Tony." 

"Yeah," Tony said, watching Steve's every movement carefully. "Steve?" 

"Yeah?" He said from underneath a towel, drying his hair.

"Thank you."

"For what?" He pulled the towel off of his head and face, but Tony was gone.

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Steve came down to the lab the next day with an assortment of food again.

"Are these waffle dippers?" Tony asked excitedly before shoving one into his mouth and going back to his work.

Steve wasn't offended by Tony's lack of attention. He looked more rested and focused today. Steve left the tray within grabbing distance and went to sit with his book on the couch in the sitting area Tony had made. 

He read a little bit but got distracted by the way Tony moved. His arms plucking hologrammed parts out of the air as he spoke to JARVIS. The way he ran his hands through his hair when he encountered something he couldn't quite figure out. It was mesmerizing watching someone build like this. He'd worked with Tony on his motorcycle, but this was a whole different ballet. 

He grabbed an errant piece of paper and pencil from the coffee table and started sketching those arms making magic. 

Eventually Steve's phone buzzed, breaking his trance. He slipped out of the lab to attend to his duties.

The next day followed a similar routine. As did the day after that. And the day after that.

Tony worked, occasionally acknowledging Steve. And Steve just read and sketched. 

After a week Steve just left his book there, knowing he'd be back. 

That night as he lay in bed, he thought of those arms. Deft fingers delicately working on microchips. Those long eyelashes. Those plump lips.

He could never deny Tony was a handsome man. Hell, the whole world thought Tony was a handsome man. But watching him work passionately had put those good looks to use in Steve's mind.

He imagined Tony's deep brown eyes looking up through those dark lashes at him. The way Tony's strong hands would look knotted in the sheets. He couldn't ignore how the thought of licking Tony's lips made his cock hard. He stroked himself as he thought of running his fingers through Tony's dark curls as Tony sucked him dry. He came, shuddering in the dark as he imagined what Tony would look like coming undone beneath him.

Steve sighed.

He had a crush.

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Tony was tired. Mental gymnastics were as tiring as physical ones sometimes. And he’d been at it all day.

He slumped towards the couch in his lab.

Just a few minutes of shut eye and then he could figure out this problem.

The pillow smelled like Steve. Like warm laundry, charcoal, and whatever deodorant he wore.

Steve had been here earlier. Tony appreciated the silent company in the lab. The other body made the echo of the room a little less lonely.

He closed his eyes and let himself bask in the idea of Steve being next to him.

Steve was trying—and to his credit, it was working. He was more patient in meetings, even if sometimes Tony could see him physically trying to hold back saying something or reacting. Having a routine seemed to be helping him. He looked more rested, his shoulders seemed less tense. 

Tony knew he usually spent the morning in the gym before fixing something to eat and coming to the lab. From the look of the black eye he’d accidentally given Clint, they’d been training hard. Tony tried to make it down to the gym a couple times a week, but usually just tried to throw a little yoga or lifting into his lab routine. Maybe he should take Steve up on his swimming offer.

Steve had looked so beautiful when he came up from the water. Droplets sticking to skin, joining the dusting of freckles across his shoulders and strong chest. Even with the distortion of the water, he could see the granite cut muscle. 

He'd seen Steve's pre-serum pictures, and honestly the man had always been attractive. If he hadn't gotten the serum, Tony still thought he was beautiful. 

His eyes fluttered closed as has thought about what those freckles shoulders would feel like under his lips.

He was groggy when he awoke a few hours later. Face smashed into the pillow, a small drool spot forming.

“Jay?” he groaned. “What time is it?” 

“1:37 AM, sir.”

“Fuck.”

He pulled himself up, rubbing his tired face in his hands, just sitting in silence for a moment. He spied Steve’s book on the couch. Carl Sagan’s Cosmos. He didn’t take Steve for a space-nerd, but a respectable choice none the less. He spied some scraps of paper sticking out of the pages. Curious to see what notes Steve had been taking he picked up the book. It was stuffed with a dozen scraps of paper with sketches on them, some of them fell into his lap. Some taking up the whole space, some just tiny little corners. 

Tony’s hands, reaching into the air like he was plucking fruit. A close up of just dark curls. The curve of lips. The arc reactor mutedly shining through fabric. Just small little vignettes of Tony. 

The delicate detail that went into them with just a borrowed lab pencil and some scraps took Tony’s breath away. He also knew he needed to do something more. 

“Jay, is there a craft store open?”

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

The next afternoon Tony waited. Well, he pretended to work. But he was really just waiting.

Steve came down, carrying takeout instead of a tray this time.

“Hey, I had some errands to run this morning, so I grabbed us some Thai for lunch,” he said entering the room.

Tony paused what he was doing and smiled. “Sound’s great. Eat here or on the couch?” Hoping Steve would say the couch, where a new sketch pad was waiting for him.

“Here is fine, I already have utensils for us.”

“Oh, okay.”

Steve looked puzzled. “Everything okay?” He stopped taking out various containers to look at Tony with concern.

“Yeah, it’s—is that lipstick?” He reached out to swipe at Steve’s cheek involuntarily. Purple pigment coming off on his thumb as his hand cradled the other man’s face. When Steve pulled away, he recoiled like Steve had bitten him. “What kind of errands did you have?” he bit out.

Steve was taken back, “I had to check on my tenants and flat. I got coffee with a friend,” Steve put his hands up like he was standing down, his voice was calm, but Tony could sense the confusion.

“Why are you acting like you’re my friend?” Tony asked. 

“What? Tony—”

“I don’t need to be looked after like a child, Steve.” He glowered at the other man. He could tell Steve was rapidly losing his patience. 

“I’m not—”

“You are! I can feed and exercise myself. I’m not a fucking pet project,” Tony shot up from the table and walked away.

“Tony, come—”

“Why do you keep coming down here?”

“I—”

“Do you just feel bad for me?”

“Tony—”

“Do you—”

“TONY,” Steve shouted. Tony’s mouth snapped shut. “Will you let me fucking talk? Jesus Christ, Tony.” 

Tony went still, refusing to look at him. 

“I went to go check on my tenants and my flat. While I was in the neighborhood I got coffee with my friend, Rachelle. She kissed me on the cheek because we are friends,” he sighed and scrubbed his face. “And just for your information because you seem so upset about it, we did sleep together. Before I got a Timer.”

“You what?” Tony’s eyes suddenly shot to him. “Is she the reason for your Timer?”

“What? Tony, no. Well, sort of,” he corrected. Tony’s face fell. “No! No, not like that.” Tony watched Steve shift uncomfortably. “She bought me a drink one afternoon and we started talking. She asked me why I didn’t have a Timer. Her Timer isn’t going to go off until she’s 75.”

“How old is she now?”

Steve shrugged, “late 20s, if I remember correctly. Anyways, instead of feeling trapped by it, she said she felt free. Free of the pressure to have to figure stuff out, and free of the idea that she had to wait for her One to live her life, since she didn’t know how much life she’d have once she met her One. It sounded so liberating, the idea of not worrying. Of letting yourself have things you want. The idea of knowing, but not fearing the unknown."

"So you slept with her?"

"People have needs and also she's beautiful and brilliant," he sounded frustrated. "But she made it very clear she wasn't interested in a relationship. And I was fine with that. But laughing with her, being with her, made me crave that kind of intimacy with someone else. Not with her, but because of her."

"Did she hit you up for a booty call?" Tony asked bluntly, still digesting the other man's confession.

A blush rose across Steve's cheeks, "yes, but we got coffee instead so I could tell her about my Timer. She was happy for me." 

Tony looked skeptically at him.

"You don't have to believe me, Tony. But you don't get to be jealous either," his voice was tired. "Whatever we have between us—whatever this is—doesn't have strings attached to it. You don't get to feel cheated out of something we don't have. And you sure as hell don't get to take your bad mood out on me." Steve pushed away from the table and walked out of the lab.

Tony wasn't hungry anymore as he stared at the sketch book.

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Steve swam laps in the warm pool. Trying not to think about Tony's jealousy. Or the way his hand felt as it caressed his cheek. 

As he came up for air, deja vu and shock sent him careening into the wall instead of stopping in time. Tony was once again standing there, except this time wearing swim trunks. 

"Hey," he said as Steve spit out a mouth full of water and coughed.

"Did you come here to apologize again?"

"What? You don't like how my apologies echo off off the water?"

Steve just shot him a look.

"I'm sorry."

"Thank you."

"Tony, what are w—"

"Will you teach me how to swim?"

"Now?"

"Well I know how to swim. But will you help me swim? Just, like, be here?" Tony fidgeted uncomfortably.

Steve paused, thinking.

"Yeah," he turned and swam towards the end of the pool with steps in. Tony walked along the edge, following. 

He stopped and stood a few feet back from the steps.

Tony put one hand on the cool metal of the railing on the side of the steps and froze. 

Deep breath in

Deep breath out. 

He stepped an inquisitive foot into the water, the warmth hitting his ankles.

Then the other.

He went down a step, it was at his shins.

He went down one more, it was at his knees. 

He was starting to get nervous.

Deep breath in.

Deep breath out.

He stepped once more. This time his foot didn't land firmly, but slid off the step. 

He could feel the panic rise like bile in his throat as his body tensed to hit the water, breath shocked out of his chest.

Instead of being met with a splash, he fell face first into Steve's wet chest. Strong arms wrapped around his torso, stopping him from sliding back into the water. It took him a moment, but he realized his arms were wrapped around Steve too and he gasped.

"Hey, I got you," Steve cooed. 

He was suddenly aware this was the longest he'd ever hugged Steve. And certainly the first time he could feel how soft his skin was. 

"Tony, are you okay?"

Tony nodded against him. 

"Okay, I'm going to let you down if that okay. It's only up to your waist here, okay?"

He nodded again and felt Steve's arms slacken around him, the other man's hands floating to his waist instead. 

This felt like a scene out of a bad romance novel, but he couldn’t help but enjoy the way his hands felt on his hips, and he took a little too long to loosen his grip around Steve’s neck. 

He let his body be guided down the few inches left to the pool floor by Steve’s hands. Tony kept his hands on Steve’s shoulders for a moment before he let them drop to the surface of the water. 

“I’m going to let go of you now,” Steve said, giving his hip a small squeeze before his hands disappeared. “See, you’re doing it!”

“I’d hardly call this swimming, this is more like taking a deep bath,” Tony said, hands still swishing through the surface of the water.

“Okay, then let’s try going deeper,” Steve smiled.

Tony looked hesitant, but Steve held out one of those life saving hands, so he took it.

"I'll stop whenever you say 'stop.'"

He gently lead Tony deeper, past his belly button, the water climbing further up his body with every step, closer and closer to the arc reactor.

"Stop!" Tony suddenly felt panicked.

Steve stopped walking and took a step towards Tony, not dropping his hand. 

"Hey, hey. You're okay. It's okay. What are you feeling?"

"Wet." 

Steve rolled his eyes dramatically, "come on, Tony. Talk to me."

"Soon I'll have to start floating. I won't be in control," Tony stared blankly at the deeper end of the pool.

Steve understood his fear deeply. 

"Then let's stay right here," he ran his thumb over Tony's hand. 

They just stood in the water, holding hands. Tony felt silly. He felt like a failure for not being able to go deeper. But he felt terrified of the other end of the pool.

"What are you thinking?" Steve asked.

"Can you do a handstand?" Tony's face switching from concerned to wry.

"Here or on land?" There was a twinkle in his eye.

"I mean both, but here. Right now."

"Yes to both, I think. I haven't done this since I was a kid. Hold on." Steve let go of his hand and took a deep breath and dove beneath the still surface. 

Tony watched his body twist before his legs shot out of the water. He wiggled his toes before tipping back in with a splash. He came up grinning, and Tony couldn't help but grin too. 

Steve stayed low in the water, swimming around back and forth as Tony watched. 

"Hey, Steve? I'm going to dunk my head."

Steve stood up quickly, ready to spring into action should Tony start to panic. 

Tony just smiled softly. Took a deep breath, and let his legs relax, carrying him slowly beneath the surface.

The water felt warm on his face. The gentle pressure of it surrounding him. The movements tugging gently at his hair. He sat in the stillness, the warmth, the tranquility for a moment before pushing his feet down and popping back up to the surface. 

He grinned at Steve as he wiped the water from his face. Steve grinned back. 

He let his body relax into the water. Feet still firmly planted on the ground, but knees bent so the water came up to his shoulders. It felt nice, almost weightless.

He and Steve paddled and splashed for a while longer before Tony started yawning. 

"JARVIS, what time is it?"

"9:30 pm, sir."

He looked at Steve, "isn't it past your bed time, grandpa?" 

Steve chuckled, "ha-ha, Tony. Come on, let's go. Swimming is a lot of work."

He shooed them out of the pool and into the shower stalls. Tony silently cursed himself for creating individual showers instead of a communal shower for this one instance only as he caught a glimpse of the other man's sculpted ass as he dropped his towel and stepped through the curtain.

Once they were showered, dried, and dressed they headed towards the elevator. 

"Have you eaten?" Steve asked.

"No, you?" 

"I've been down here for like five hours, so no," Steve laughed as they stepped in. 

"How does sushi sound?"

Steve moaned, "oh my God, so good." If Steve had to be pressed about what the greatest technological advancement was in the years he was asleep, besides vaccines, it was definitely the refrigerated high speed shipping.

"Movie night?" Tony asked.

"The whole team?" 

"Absolutely," he smiled, feeling warm inside. "JARVIS, assemble the Avengers for movie night."

Clint, Natasha, and Bruce joined them in the den they'd turned into their movie room, Clint being tasked with carrying the heaping bags of sushi and snacks, and Bruce carrying various drinks.

They watched Young Frankenstein, laughing and eating. Clint and Natasha curled up on one couch, Bruce took his favorite position on the floor with a cushion, and Tony and Steve sat on the couch, tired full, and content. 

Steve woke up sometime later, the night sky lightening in predawn. The dishes had been cleared, and someone had thrown a blanket over him and Tony, who was stretched out along the couch, head at the opposite end of Steve's. 

He watched the other man sleep. Face calm, a slight smile on his face. Hair askew and head half covered by a couch cushion. He's beautiful.

Steve thought about his vulnerability in the pool. His jealousy over his coffee date. Maybe Tony liked him too. 

He looked at his Timer. 

Would all of this be happening without it? 

He wasn't sure, but he was glad it was happening either way.

Tony stirred, "wha time is it?" He looked at Steve confused. "Where'd everyone go?"

"Go on a date with me," he said abruptly. "If you want to, that is. But, will you go on a date with me?"

Tony blinked at him. "Yeah. Yeah, okay."

Steve beamed.

"It's 4:47, I'm going to hit the hay. Goodnight, Tony."

He felt warm inside as he walked to his room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!


	3. Sigh

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what happens when you start writing during a manic episode and write 20k words in a week and then leave it alone for 11 months? This! Apparently. Buuuuut we're back, baby! Maybe. Idk. Enjoy!

Where do you take the richest man in the world on a date?

He can do literally anything he wants at any time, how can you compete?

Steve was lost in thought as he walked downstairs with a tray of food. 

It had been a busy few days since the swimming and movie night. He hadn't had a chance to go down to the lab. Tonight was their date, but he was craving routine.

"Isn't it bad luck to see the bride before the wedding?" Tony quipped as Steve walked in.

"Oh, we're getting married now, are we?" He laughed as he snatched a sandwich from the tray and went to sit on the couch. 

He stopped in his tracks when he saw the leather bound sketchbook sitting on the coffee table. A set of pencils and a set of charcoal next to it.

"Tony?"

"Hm? Oh!" He rushed over, watching Steve pick up the sketchbook and examine it. "I, uh, got you these last week. So you would stop stealing all my scrap paper," he smirked.

Last week. It must have been before their fight, Steve thought. He saw the drawings. His cheeks blushed brightly. 

"Thank you," he said, turning and taking a step towards Tony. He wordlessly pulled him into a hug. 

People had done a lot of things for Steve since he got out of the ice. Mostly out of necessity. And he had friends who cared about them. But none of them were gift people. This was the first gift anyone had given him since before he went down.

"Thank you," he said again, still holding onto the smaller man. He didn't want to let go. Tony was warm against him. He didn't want to let go. If he looked at him he would kiss him. He didn't want to let go. He didn't want to break this moment. 

He broke the hug quietly and paused.

He leaned in, gently cupping Tony's face and kissed him. A soft, chaste kiss pressed to a surprised mouth.

"Sorry, I should've—"

Tony kissed him back, arms wrapping around him and almost knocking Steve back with the force. It was hungry and desperate and Steve matched the pace.

Tony backed them towards the couch, the back of his knees hitting the edge before he pulled Steve down with him.

Steve's skin felt hot where Tony's hands were running over it under his shirt. Steve's hands gently pulling through the other man's hair. 

He could feel himself getting hard, and he knew Tony was pressed against him feeling the same as he nipped at Steve's lips.

"Tony," he moaned against his lips. "We should—"

"Move to—"

"Stop," Steve panted, pulling away. "We should stop," he looked pained.

"Why?" Tony's confused face with his tousled hair was almost enough to make Steve reconsider. 

Steve sighed, "I know it's silly, but I really want to take you on a date first." He untangled them. Tony didn't fight it, but didn't move himself. "I'll see you tonight."

Steve left Tony sitting confused and disheveled on the couch in the lab as he went upstairs to take a cold shower.

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

"What should I wear?" The text read. 

Steve laughed about how like Tony it was to leave getting ready to the last minute, they were supposed to meet up in just a few minutes. 

"Something civilian and low key."

"Okay, be ready in 10."

Steve smiled as he zipped up his leather jacket. It was a chilly night, so he was going to skip taking his motorcycle, which he was a little disappointed by, but it wasn't too cold for the outdoor date. 

He called one of the cars around as he waited in the lobby for Tony. Living at the tower had its perks. 

He was nervous. Despite everything that had happened the last couple weeks. Their growing closeness. What if he didn't have fun? What if this wasn't up to par with Tony's tastes? 

"How do you manage to look that good in just a leather jacket and jeans?" He heard from behind him.

He laughed as he turned to see Tony, brown boots topped with close fitting jeans, a plain shirt, all wrapped into a stylish peacoat.

"You should talk," he pulled the other man close, taking his hand and kissing him on the cheek. "Let's go."

The car pulled around and Steve opened the door for Tony who he could swear blushed as he did.

"Where are we going?" Tony looked at the lights in the night as they drove through the city.

"You'll see soon."

The car soon pulled up to an amusement park

The smell of popcorn and fried foods paired with the glittering lights hit Tony's senses as he took it all in.

"I've never actually been to an amusement park like this," he said as Steve came around and opened the door for him. 

"I thought it might be fun," he said leading them through the throngs of people. "What do you want to do first?" 

"Do you think I can outsmart the games?" He smiled at the row of carnival games. 

"Let's find out."

Steve and Tony played games for a while, guessing which ones were unwinnably rigged, and which ones they could get the biggest prize on. 

Tony won a giant bear and gave it to a passing child whose eyes lit up like the ferris wheel. 

They ate popcorn and hot dogs and laughed in the glow of the lights. Stealing kisses in the house of mirrors, and holding hands on the Ferris wheel as they looked over the harbor.

Steve was pensive as the Ferris wheel brought them higher into the air. 

"What're you thinking about?" Tony asked quietly. 

"Last time I rode this it was with Bucky." 

Tony hummed, running his thumb over Steve's knuckles as he held it. "It must be hard, it's only been a couple years for you."

"Yeah, some days it feels unbearable," he admitted. "I never imagined life without Bucky. Then he fell, and there was life without Bucky. But I had Peggy. And then I woke up, and Peggy was gone as well.

"I'm still not sure about these," he shifted his arm, Timer visible. "I don't know if I believe in the idea of a single soulmate, I had two already."

"Oh," Tony's chest felt tight.

"Tony," Steve said, turning to meet his gaze "hey. It means I believe I can have more." 

"Oh," Tony breathed out.

Steve kissed him gently as the amusement park below them got smaller.

"I never thought I'd feel like this again." 

Tony hummed, "I bet you never imagined it would be me."

"No," he laughed. "When I said I wanted to work on being better friends and teammates this certainly wasn't the plan."

"But the Timers," Tony finished what was unspoken. "Would this be happening without them?" He wondered aloud.

"Does it matter?" Steve said, surprising even himself. 

Tony's wide eyes softened at the edges. 

"No," he smiled, "no, it doesn't."

They kissed again, and rode the way down in silence, enjoying the view and the company.

They made their way back out of the amusement park.

They sat a little too close in the car, grinning like fools. 

Back at the tower Tony basically dragged Steve hurriedly by the hand into the elevator, smiling. 

As the door closed behind them he pushed Steve against the wall, kissing him hungrily, his lips tasting of cotton candy and buttered popcorn.

Tony's hands dove under Steve's shirt as he kissed down his neck, Steve panting and grinding against him.

Tony's hands were suddenly at Steve's belt and he couldn't think straight as Tony attacked his mouth while undoing the leather and metal. He felt the belt fall open and the button on his jeans pop.

"Steve," Tony moaned against him. 

Suddenly Tony was gone. 

Steve opened his eyes to see Tony standing back, devilish smirk on his face. 

"Payback," he shrugged. The door opened behind him. "Goodnight," he winked as he stepped back through the doors and Steve couldn't help but sigh out a laugh. 

Back at his floor he grabbed a drink before stripping down to his boxer briefs and crawling into bed. He picked up his book to read, but couldn't focus on the pages.

He smiled as he thought of the look on Tony's face as they had pulled up to their destination. The understanding and softness Tony had granted him when he spoke about his past. His kiss plumped lips as he stepped out of the elevator. 

He wasn't lying to Tony, he never thought he would feel the flutter in his chest again. He never thought he'd be able to sit in silence and feel heard at the same time. He never imagined he could fall in—

His phone buzzed, interrupting his train of thought. Who would be texting him at this hour?

Tony:

You still up?

Steve:

I don't actually go to bed at 8:30 you know

  
  


Oh? I thought that's why we left, it was way past your bed time 😜

🙄

I had fun tonight

I'm glad, I did too

I especially had fun looking at your ass while you played skeeball 

Tony 😂😅🙄

America's Ass™🍑

Oh my God 

You looked great yourself

Especially getting out of the elevator

Oh? 

I like the messy hair look 😜

Certainly seemed like it hahah

You seem to like other things about me, if all those sketches I found are any clue

There's a reason you make all those Top Sexy Bachelors lists in magazines

You think I'm sexy?

Of course, have you looked in a mirror?

I know I'm sexy, I just love that you think so

Don't let it go to your head, Stark 😤

I can't believe Captain America uses emojis

They're useful 🤷♂️

😂

😊

So is there a reason you're texting me from the same building?

Just wanted to see if you were up

I was thinking about you

What were you thinking about?

You looked so happy on the Ferris wheel

It was a lot of fun

And so sexy in the elevator

That was also a lot of fun 😜

I have to say, the prank wasn't worth it

Oh?

I just can't stop thinking about finishing what I started

Never knew you to be a quitter

How exactly would you have finished that?

Well I was only getting started

What I really wanted to do was kiss down your body

Before I pulled your cock out and let you fuck my mouth 

Oh wow

Sorry, was that too forward?

Tell me more.

I want to taste you. I want your hands pulling my hair as I lick your balls and stroke your cock.

Jesus Tony

I want to feel you come undone on my tongue

Holy shit

I'm so hard thinking about that

About you

Fucking same

You paint a good picture 

Not as good as you'd paint me with your cum

Oh my god

What are you doing?

I told you 

Thinking about you

Fucking hell

You've go quite the mouth on you, Captain

Apparently you do as well

Why don't you come find out

Be right there

Steve was blindingly hard as he set his phone down. Holy shit. His heart was beating out of his chest as he got out of bed.

Where was his fucking robe? 

He tore his closet apart as quick as he could before locating the plush navy garment. He doubt he'd run into anyone else in the tower but wow would that be bad timing.

The elevator ride seemed to last forever as his phone pinged with a picture of Tony, clearly shirtless in bed, biting his lip, hair mussed.

He shot out of the elevator the moment it opened. It occurred to him that he'd never been in Tony's room, but the layout of the floors was similar enough that he knew where he was headed.

He reached to knock and the door swung open before his fist could make contact. 

Tony grabbed the collar of his robe and pulled him inside before pushing him wordlessly against the wall and kissing him hard as he kicked the door closed.

Steve moaned against him, erection swiftly coming back. 

Tony wasted no time undoing the robe and helping Steve slide it off. 

He kissed Steve's neck as he palmed him through his underwear. One of Steve's hands grabbed Tony's firm ass, the other was running through his hair.

"I want," Tony nipped at Steve's neck, eliciting a moan, "to taste you." His hand moved from the front of Steve's underwear, to slipping inside the waistband. Fingers running over the short patch of hair before wrapping around Steve's thick cock, earning another moan from the man.

"Oh shit," Steve breathed out as his head fell back against the wall and Tony's mouth trailed down his neck, over his chest, stopping to flick over a nipple. His hands pulling Steve's boxer briefs over his hips and down to the floor as he kneeled. 

"You look so fucking pretty on your knees," he said, running his hand through Tony's hair, brown eyes staring hungrily up at him. 

Tony held Steve's hip steady with one hand as he took him into his mouth in one fell swoop. Steve hissed above him. He pulled off with a pop and stroked him as he licked down his shaft and laved over his balls.

He returned his attention to Steve's leaking cock. He tasted smooth and salty in his mouth and Tony couldn't get enough. His hand tightly following the up and down emotions of his mouth.

"Tony, oh my God," Steve moaned above him, hand gripping tighter in his hair. Tony looked up at Steve, mouth stretched wide. "You look so fucking beautiful." 

Tony lapped at the head of his cock.

"Fuck my mouth," he said, meeting Steve's eyes. Steve could only nod as his hands knotted in Tony's hair gently. Tony's hands gripped his hips, letting Steve be in control but giving him an out if he needed. 

Tony's mouth opened wide for Steve as he relaxed his throat. Steve started slow, guiding Tony's mouth up and down, deeper as he picked up speed. Soon he was fucking into Tony's tight wet mouth, losing his mind every time his dick hit the back of Tony's hot throat. 

The brunette moaned obscenely around his cock as his fingers dug bruises into Steve's hips. 

"Fuck, I'm going to cum."

Tony moaned again, sending Steve over the edge as he cradled Tony's head cumming down his throat. 

Tony pulled off his cock, licking him clean and then licking his lips as he looked up at the blissed out and panting Steve. 

"You taste so good," his voice was scratchy from the work out. 

Steve wordlessly pulled him up, mouths crashing together. Steve's hand reached into his boxers and gasped Tony's neglected cock. The slide of his hand slick with precome. Tony rutted into his hand. 

"Cum for me, Tony," he panted into the other man's mouth. "Cum for me." 

Tony's arm wrapped around his neck as he fucked into Steve, spilling over his hand with a choked sob as Steve held him close and kept him from collapsing. 

"Oh my god," he said breathlessly clinging to Steve.

"Yeah," Steve agreed, chuckling.

"Oh my god," Tony said again, starting to laugh.

"Yeah," Steve said, laughing as he kissed Tony's forehead.

"Wow." 

"Wow, indeed." He shifted and slid them down to the floor in one smooth motion, Tony curled into his lap. 

He nuzzled into Tony's hair as he held him, humming contentedly.

"I can't believe I sexted Captain America," Tony laughed. 

"Captain America doesn't sext, Steve Rogers appreciates the new American past time."

"Mmm, seems like it. You should stay."

"We should get cleaned up."

"And then you should stay."

"Okay," he smiled as he pulled them up. 

Tony got a washcloth, stripped down, and wiped off before passing it to Steve who did the same. 

Now that Steve was inside Tony's room and not just the doorway, he loved all the dark wood and clean lines. The furniture was modern, but plush. His large bed had asphalt grey sheets that felt like butter as Steve crawled inside them.

Tony crawled in next to him and immediately snuggled up. Steve didn't mind. It felt so intimate as he smoothed a hand over his hair. He didn't mind. Tony drifted off to sleep quickly, small puffs of breath ghosting over Steve's skin. 

He didn't mind.

His heart felt warm.

He didn't feel alone anymore.

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

A cold nose nuzzled into the back of his neck, giving him soft kisses and rousing him from sleep.

"Good morning," was warm against his skin. 

"Good morning," he rolled to meet Tony. "Your bed is really comfortable."

"Thanks. You make a good body pillow."

Tony leaned forward to kiss him, and Steve remembered they were naked. His body was warm against him and he couldn't help but think about how hot last night had been.

"Make that an extra good morning," Tony waggled his eye brows, no doubt feeling Steve hardening against his thigh.

"Sorry," he buried his face in Tony's neck. "I was just thinking about last night." He placed small kisses along his jaw. "How good you felt." He felt Tony's cock twitch. "How much I want you."

Tony groaned, "you're going to be the death of me." He kissed Steve back. It was slow and deep. Hands roamed each other's bodies, soft and curious. 

"Steve," he moaned, "I want—I need you."

"Tell me what you want," he nipped at Tony's neck.

"Fuck me," he panted. "I might actually die if you dont. Left drawer."

Steve rolled then over so he was on top and had access to the drawer. He took his time rifling through so he could grind against Tony. 

He grabbed the lube from the drawer and kissed down Tony's body as he slid off. 

He tenderly kissed Tony's knees and thighs as he took his time opening him. 

"You're so fucking gorgeous," he crooned as he pumped his fingers in and out. 

Tony could barely respond, too wrapped up in letting himself feel every sensation. 

"So good for me," Steve kissed him as he lined himself up. 

Tony let out a breathy moan as Steve slid into him. He let Tony adjust and make the next move, his hips begging for movement.

Compared to last night's frantic chase of orgasm this was practically glacial. Languid kisses and slow and steady thrusts, letting their orgasms build. 

Steve picked up his pace, careening towards release. He grabbed Tony's cock, pumping in time with his thrusts. 

Tony came with Steve's name in his lips, and Steve wasn't far behind. 

Spent and satisfied they collapsed on the bed, Tony pulled Steve close.

"We should shower," he said before he kissed the top of Steve's head. 

"Mmm, in a minute. I'm comfortable."

"We have a super hero meeting at 10, and it's 9," he sighed. "I can't believe I'm the one being time conscious here?"

"Me neither," Steve said finally pulling away and sitting up.

Tony's shower was similar to Steve's, a big walk in, with lots of shower heads and gloriously hot. Perfect for a two person shower cuddle session. 

Steve couldn't help but smile as Tony helped wash him. The thought of Tony's soap on his skin all day made him feel warm. 

They switched spots and Steve reveled in getting to just touch Tony.

"I assume I don't have to avoid the arc reactor with soap?" He said, tapping it gently, the first time he'd ever explicitly touched it, though he'd felt it pressed against him earlier.

"No, it's totally water tight."

"I figures since you went swimming, didn't know if soap would scuff the finish though," he laughed and kissed Tony's shoulder as he spun him around to wash his back.

"It freaks most people out," he sounded sad.

"Doesn't bother me," Steve rubbed his shoulders, working out tension under the warm spray. "It's part of you. And I like you."

"You know how I got it, yeah?"

"Yes. I know you got the shrapnel removed, too" his fingers traced along a surgery scar on the back of Tony's rib cage before he went back to work massaging him. 

"Most of if it. I figured if I was going to have huge disfiguring scar in the middle of my chest and a weakened sternum I might as well keep it," he turned back to Steve. "My scars don't bother you?" 

"Of course not," he pulled Tony close. He'd have to rinse off again, but it was worth it. "You are more than your scars, but your scars are your story. I appreciate them." 

He heard Tony sniffle and held him for a minute longer in the hot steam. 

"Pre serum Steve had a lot of scars," he said before leading them back under the spray. 

"Pre serum Steve was still handsome," Tony replied.

"And so is post arc Tony." He reached to turn off the water. 

He could swear Tony's towels were fluffier than his. 

He slipped his robe back on and went back to his floor to dress before the meeting.

The night before played in his head. So much had happened between the beginning of their date and right now, and it had barely been 16 hours. 

Things just felt easy. They felt natural. Once they had stopped trying to fight each other and committed to being friends, that seemed to come easy.

It was too soon to say for certain, but this felt easy too. The sex, the softness, the care. It felt natural.

It felt so good.

It felt too good.

Fear was creeping in at the edges. 

Another shoe must be ready to drop. 

It must just be a honeymoon phase.

Steve couldn't resist the panic he felt about it all.

### ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

“So what’s the plan?” Steve asked, looking at the files in front of him and the projections. JARVIS and Natasha had finally decoded the majority of the information from their raid.

“Clint and I are headed to this hidden base. We’ll have some special ops support as back up, since this is of interest to the US government as well, but you two aren’t needed on this mission,” Natasha said.

Tony scoffed, “not needed?”

“You,” Clint said pointing at Tony, “are terrible at stealth, and you,” he pointed at Steve, are just too huge to not be seen on this mission. Seriously, stop working out. did you get bigger?”

  
Natasha nodded in agreement.

“We’re leaving tonight and the mission should only take two days, and hopefully we’ll have more information then.”

“What are you expecting to find there exactly?” Tony asked. “The documents are unclear.”

“There are more reports of a secret weapon there, as well as records on paid engagements.”

“So HYDRA receipts?”

“We’ll know who’s been writing the checks on assassinations,” Clint confirmed.

“Was there anymore information about what this secret weapon might be?” Steve asked, thumbing through the papers.

“No, more references to it being possibly bionic,” Natasha said.

“Wait, like an exoskeleton or something? Do they have a suit?” Tony’s eyes got wide.

“No,” she said. “Not a full suit.”

“We think,” Clint added.

Tony’s eyes narrowed. “Are you sure you don’t need us?”

“Yes,” the spies answered in unison.

“You two lovebirds can have a quiet weekend,” Clint wriggled an eyebrow.

Tony and Steve both rolled their eyes. It was unspoken, but neither of them felt like disclosing to the team what had happened, not yet.

“Okay,” Steve said, not acknowledging him. “Let us know if you need anything. Good luck.”

  
  


“And God Speed,” Tony mocked Steve’s stern tone and saluted. The whole team rolled their eyes.

They adjourned and the spies went to prep for their mission, getting off first at their floor. and Steve and Tony stood silently in the elevator.

Their bubble had popped. The deep moments they’d shared together last night and this morning seemed so far away, even if it had just been hours before. It felt awkward now. 

“So,” Tony started. “What now?”

“I don’t know,” Steve admitted.

“Okay, well. Call me if you’re bored later,” Tony said blankly as he stepped out onto his floor and the door closed behind him.

He didn’t wait to see the look on Steve’s face. 

Everything from last night to this morning had been incredible. 

Hot, close, comfortable.

Everything he wanted.

But when Steve left to get dressed the dread started creeping in. 

The doubt.

What if Steve didn’t like him, actually. The Timer was just forcing something that would never be real.

He felt panicked and uncertain.

The silence in the elevator made him feel that all over again.

They got carried away. He shouldn’t have initiated anything. 

He wanted to crawl into a hole.

He opted for crawling back into his bed.

His sheets smelled like Steve.

He drifted off to a fitful sleep.

“Tony?” a quiet voice called from his door.

He rubbed his eyes. He’d been asleep for close to 5 hours

“You weren’t answering your phone, can I come in?” Steve hovered in his doorway.

“Yeah,” he said noncommittally. 

The other man slowly entered the room, and when Tony didn’t move, he crawled under the covers with him. Not touching him, but facing him.

“Hi,” Steve said. He looked worried.

“Hey.”

“Is everything okay? Did I do something?”

“No.”

“Okay. Because this kind of feels like you’re mad at me.”

Tony sighed. “I was asleep.”

“Okay,” he sounded unconvinced.

“What are you doing here?”

“I came to see if you wanted to get dinner, but I can go.”

“Oh.”

“Tony, what’s wrong?”

“Do you regret it?”

“What?”

“Do you regret last night, this morning?”

“Why would you ask that?”

“Because you wouldn’t even look at me in the elevator this morning.”

“Tony—no. Of course I don’t. I’m just,” he thought. “Scared.”

“Of being outed as being with me?”

“No,” he said firmly. “Of this being taken away from me. I've lost everyone I ever cared about."

Tony was quiet.

"It feels so good when we're together. I'm afraid that I'll lose it. I feel like I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop."

"I know what you mean," Tony said softly. 

"This says we're meant to be," he tapped the Timer on Tony's wrist. "And I like the sound of that. But I'm still scared, Tony."

Tony nodded.

He understood. 

But he liked the sound of it too. 

"I've spent so long mourning the people I used to love, its hard to be present all the time," he admitted. "But I'm trying."

"We're both just doing our best," Tony said. 

"What do we do now?

"I don't know. We have three days to ourselves to figure it out."

Steve hummed. "Let's go have some dinner."

"I don't know if I want to go out."

"I'm cooking, come on."

He got up and waved for Tony to follow him.

They all had their own separate kitchens, but usually cooked on the shared floor, so that's where he directed them. 

Tony sat on a stool at the island while Steve began pulling ingredients and utensils from the fridge and cabinets.

The ingredients all stood in a row like they were waiting for him; milk, butter, flour, baking powder, salt, pepper, sausage, eggs

"Breakfast for dinner?"

Steve smiled softly as he scooped flour into his bowl, "yeah, biscuits and gravy.

"When we could afford sausage, my mom would make this. It was the first thing I ever learned how to make. When we couldn't afford sausage we would just put extra spices in the gravy and pretend.” He mixed the biscuits by hand and portioned them out before sliding them into the oven.

He set to work on the sausage and gravy as Tony watched.

Tony had never been one for cooking himself. He understood the mechanics and chemistry and motions, but he didn't care for them himself. But, watching Steve go through a recipe by heart made his heart feel light. Steve cared about all the little stuff.

Tony could work on delicate microchips and miniscule mechanics, and subatomic particles, but the small parts of people, he didn't understand like Steve did. 

"Did your family ever cook together?" Steve asked as he cracked some eggs into another pan.

Tony let out a small, grim chuckle. "I don't think Howard knew where the kitchen was. Ma would make pasta from scratch occasionally. And Christmas cookies. But mostly it was the staff, who didn't want me in their way." 

Steve hummed, but Tony couldn't place the meaning behind it.

He watched in silence as the aroma filled the kitchen. It smelled warm and comforting. The spices in the sausage smelled fresh and savory. His mouth watered and he was enraptured. 

"Can you grab some plates?" Steve asked as he slid the sheet of biscuits our of the oven. 

Tony wordlessly complied. This all felt so easy and domestic. Sure it was new, but it felt so good. 

Steve smiled as he dropped some biscuits on the waiting plates. 

"I'm terrible at portions 'cause of my serum appetite so serve yourself," he said cheerily as he took his plate and began loading it up. 

He and Tony grabbed their food and sat across from each other at the large table that inhabited the shared dining room. 

"Oh my god," Tony said, practically shoveling food into his mouth. "This is amazing."

"I know," Steve smiled and they ate their fill in comfortable silence.

After dinner Tony helped Steve pick up and load the dishwasher, before they made their way to the living room. 

"Now what?" Tony asked. 

"Not sure. Apparently we have the rest of our lives go figure it out," Steve said, curling up on the opposite end of the couch. "Before I showed up, what did you imagine your future like?"

"When I was with Pepper?" Tony frowned a little.

"Yeah, or before her. Just in general. When you imagined yourself happy in the future, what did you see?"

Tony thought for a moment. Steve worried in the silence that what he asked was too personal. 

"People always assumed I'd never settle down," he said. "That Pepper 'tamed' me. And maybe she did a little, but I've always wanted a partner to share my life with." He smiled dreamily into the distance as Steve studied his face. "You?"

"I always wanted a family. Whether it was adopting with Bucky, or having children with Peggy, I dreamt of it," he smiled sadly. "I hoped that when the war was over, and we'd get a change to settle down, we'd have some kids after a couple years. We were still young, didn't want to rush it. Peg was a career woman, so it was up to her when we'd…" he drifted off.

"Do you still want them?" Tony asked softly. "Children, I mean."

"Do you?" Steve replied. "Because—"

"Doesn't matter what I want, I'm asking you. Timer or not, do you still want a family?"

"Someday," the blond man said quietly, almost nervously. "It's something I haven't let myself think of since I woke up. But given the option, yeah." 

Tony hummed, "I never let myself have that dream. I didn't want to end up like Howard."

Steve's brow furrowed.

"But," Tony continued, "the older I get, the more therapy I get, the more I like the idea of it." 

Steve's face turned into a sweet smile as he watched Tony's confession. 

"I don't think we're anywhere near there. But, that's good to know," he said. 

"Timers always make people rush. I don't want to do that," Tony said.

"I'm not going anywhere, we can take it slow," Steve replied, putting a hand on the smaller man's thigh. 

"I think we skipped a slow entry point already," the brunette laughed. 

"I meant in terms of our future," Steve smiled. "Our 'destiny' is apparently already here so we can do whatever we want, whenever we want."

"Is that so?" Tony said, waggling an eyebrow at the other man. Steve just laughed. "How do you feel about us and sex, Stevie?" He said after a moment. "We can take that slower, uhh, if you want." Blush rose in his cheeks. "I know we've been hanging out for a while and we already—the other morning, but, don't feel like we need to—"

"Tony," Steve's hand reached to cup his jaw, his soft expression morphing into something more hungry. "Whatever we want, whenever we want," he said firmly before leaning forward to kiss him deeply.

It wasn't hurried or frenzied like in the doorway, or soft and languid like the next morning had been. It was intense and hot and Tony pulled him closer and closer as he leaned back on the couch. 

Steve followed Tony's lead, crawling over his body as he kissed him, knees straddled his hips, and his arms bracketed his head. Tony pressed his hips up to meet Steve's body, and Steve nipped at his bottom lip.

"Do you ever switch?" Tony panted into Steve's mouth between kisses, hands rucking up the sides of the other man's shirt, desperately trying to get his hands on skin.

"Why? Imaging me riding you on this couch?" Steve said mischievously as he nipped and Tony's neck and soothed it with his tongue. One hand roaming across Tony's chest.

"How did you know?" He chuckled, thrusting his hips up again, to show Steve how much he was imagining. 

"Because I'm imagining it, too."

Tony groaned as his hands pushed and pulled at the fabric of Steve’s shirt, begging for less of it. Steve rocked back breaking the kiss. Tony watched him with reverie as the blond man lifted his shirt over his head. Tony reached out to touch the soft skin, stretched taut over hard muscle. 

“Wow,” he said almost absent mindedly.

  
Steve blushed, “Tony, we’ve already—you’ve seen me like this before.”

“I know, you just take my breath away every time,” he said, running his hands up Steve’s sides and back down to his hips. He squeezed while he rolled his hips into the other man. Steve breathed out sharply, biting his lip. Tony repeated the motion, and was met with Steve rolling his hips back in time. 

Steve leaned down to kiss Tony deeply. He pulled away to kiss down Tony’s jaw. 

“Yes,” he whispered. “I switch.” 

Tony didn’t think his heart could beat harder than it already was, he felt like he was going to explode with need. 

“Do you want to fuck me, Tone?” Steve whispered into his skin, as he kissed down Tony’s neck. 

He was wrong, his heart could beat harder. 

“Yes, please god, yes!”

“Okay,” Steve chuckled into the older man’s mouth. “But Natasha will kill us if we fuck on the couch.” He pulled away.

“Might be worth it,” Tony said as Steve dismounted him, pulling Tony up after him. 

“But then you wouldn’t get to fuck me twice,” he said with a smirk, pulling Tony towards the door to the stairwell.

Tony thought maybe the short walk to Steve’s floor would do him good, since he didn’t want to go off before they even got started. But as he watched Steve’s ass flex as he walked up the stairs in front of him, he thought maybe he should have taken his chances with Natasha.

Steve pulled Tony into his floor, spinning around and kissing him hard as he closed the door with his other hand.

  
“Off,” he panted, grasping at Tony’s shirt, lifting it above his head. Tony complied, but desperately pushed them forward. Fingers fumbling with the button on Steve’s jeans. 

  
“Off,” he bit back.

Piece by piece clothing hit the floor as they made their way to Steve’s bedroom. 

Tony pushed Steve down on the bed and kissed down his chest, down his stomach, and hooked his fingers under the band of Steve’s boxer briefs as he pulled them down off his hips. 

“Beautiful,” he said, nipping at his hip. “Perfect,” as he slid a hand up Steve’s now naked thigh. “Gorgeous,” as he grasped Steve in his hand. 

  
“Tony,” Steve breathed out, shuttering at the long, slow strokes. 

“Don’t worry, I got you, Stevie. Where’s—”

“Left drawer,” Steve said, propping himself on his elbows as the older man pulled away to rummage through the drawer, finding the lube. 

Tony’s eyes gleamed with heat, “you made me dinner,” he said, sliding himself between Steve’s legs. “Now let me take care of you.” 

Steve wanted to reply, but he was overtaken by a moan as Tony licked up the underside of his hard cock, and a cool, slick finger circled and pressed into his hole.

“Incredible,” Tony said softly, kissing the other man’s thighs as he worked. Alternating between licking and kissing, teasing Steve with his mouth as he worked him open with fingers, adding another. “So amazing for me.” He pulled back, wanting to watch his third finger slip into the perfect man’s body. “So fucking gorgeous,” he growled, working his hand back and forth.

  
“Tony, please, please,” Steve begged, coming undone under him. “I need—”

“Shh,” Tony soothed. He pulled his fingers from the other man and kissed his way up his body. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he said, hungry mouths meeting. 

  
Steve was desperate, grabbing Tony close and rolling them til his legs once again bracketed the other man’s hips. Wordlessly, he grabbed the lube and slicked Tony up, and guided him into him before the other man could say anything else. Breath hitching in his chest as he slowly sank. “Oh, fuck,” he panted, biting his lip.

“Oh my god,” Tony said, watching the blissed out look on Steve’s face. Overwhelmed by the tight heat surrounding his cock. “Fuck, Steve.”

Steve rolled his hips, grinding on Tony’s dick experimentally and gasped. He began moving his hips in earnest, slowly sliding up and down the other man’s length. Tony’s hips twitched up and to meet Steve’s thrusts.

They built to a punishing speed. “Tony, I—” Steve’s head rolled back, eyes closed as he took in the sensations.   
  
“Come on, baby. Cum for me, Stevie,” Tony said, rapidly closing in on the same thing. “Come on, baby. Cum all over me.”

  
Steve’s mouth dropped open as he shouted his release, cock shooting off between them.

Tony followed him over the edge moments later, “Oh fuck, Stevie.” 

They stilled, watching the other’s face as they came back to reality. 

  
“That was…”

  
“Yeah…”

Steve leaned forward to kiss Tony as he slid off, “yeah.” He smiled.

They cuddled wordlessly before getting cleaned up and settling back in bed.

“I like this,” Tony said softly, stroking Steve’s hair.

“What? The part where you came in my ass?”  
  


“No,” Tony laughed. “That was great, though. Just being.”

“I like it too.”

“Good, cause I’m not getting out of this bed until Hulk drags us out of here.”

Steve laughed into his chest. 

They snuggled in the soft silence.

This is something he could get used to, Tony thought before drifting off.


	4. Grind

They drifted back into routine. Becoming a part of each other's day. With everyone else gone it was easy to become wrapped up in each other.

They ate lunch and dinner together. Tony worked and Steve sketched and read. Steve painted and Tony napped on his couch. They stayed up late talking, cuddling, exploring each other. Tony even joined Steve in the gym occasionally. 

Piece by piece, Steve remembered what Clint had said, that's how you fall in—

"Sir," JARVIS' voice filled the air. "The team is back in contact. They'll be arriving home in six hours."

"Status report."

"Steve," Natasha's voice was tight on the recording. "Mission successful...ish. We have more details on the weapons and cleared the base. The weapon… it's… you'll see. Clint broke his leg. Be home soon."

"JARVIS, prep the med bay and staff for Clint, and assume that Nat is banged up, too. Schedule a debrief for tomorrow morning, and please place an extra large order from that Cajun place everyone likes for lunch tomorrow."

"Yes, Sir. Dinner tonight as well?"

"Everyone is tired, let them choose."

JARVIS didn't respond as Steve got up from the chair in his living room. He had to find Tony.

The mission had lasted a week longer than planned, giving them an unprecedented two and a half weeks of time alone. He didn’t want the bubble to burst. His chest felt tight.

He found Tony in his lab, sitting uncharacteristically silent on a stool.

"Hey," he said softly as he entered the lab. "They are on their way home."

"I know." 

"Tony, these last couple weeks—"

"Why does it sound like you're breaking up with me?" He asked, sudden panic filling his voice. 

"What? No," Steve breached the space between them, settling in front of Tony. "These last couple weeks have been incredible, Tony. Every day, I find myself lighter when I'm with you. It's felt like we were suspended in time." He touched the other man's cheek softly. "I'm not ready for that to end."

"I wish it didn't have to," he said, nuzzling into his hand. "We could go away."

"We can't," Steve said sadly. They both knew that the info coming home would mean more work to be had.

"Are we going to tell them?"

"About us?"

"Yeah."

"Do you want to?"

Tony sighed, "look, we don't have to if you're embarrassed."

"What? No, that's not what I meant. I just...what are we?"

"Oh. Together? We're together… right?"

"Yeah. Yes. So we're boyfriends?"

"Steve," Tony chuckled softly. "We've spent three weeks fucking and cooking dinner together. Yeah, boyfriends. Partners. Whatever you want to call it."

Steve smiles back, "Well. We'll probably be busy for a while, so maybe we should get some quality time in before the team gets back." He pulls Tony close and nuzzles into his neck. 

"I don't suppose you mean dinner?" His hands coming to Steve’s hips. 

"Of course not,” he kisses Tony’s neck, nipping and kissing his way along the other man’s jaw, lips dragged over stubble, on his way to his mouth.

The kiss is deep and firm. It’s possessive, but not urgent. Tony pulls the other man in closer between his legs, pressing into him as much as he possibly can.

Steve’s hands find Tony’s ass, scooping him up as Tony wraps his legs around him. He’s smiling and laughing into the kiss. 

“Couch,” Tony says between kisses, and Steve obliges. 

Steve makes his way to the couch and sits down, Tony on his lap. At this angle it’s hard to not notice how hard he is, and judging by the way Tony is grinding into him, he clearly notices.

He suddenly feels desperate. He doesn’t want this to end. He wants to remember every inch of Tony’s skin, every moment of their time. He doesn’t want the bubble to pop, but he knows it’s just hours away. The urgency that wasn’t there before is now lighting his veins on fire. He kisses desperately as he rucks Tony’s shirt up. He lifts his arms getting the idea of what Steve wants, and when he’s free of the shirt, Steve follows with his own.

“I want you,” he says, pressing urgent kisses into the smaller man's skin as their hips roll together lazily. 

“You have me,” Tony replies softly, unbuttoning Steve’s jeans.

“Is there…?” 

Tony laughs, “of course. I was a boy scout afterall, I’m always prepared.” He climbs out of Steve’s lap, and goes to a rarely used cabinet and grabs a bottle of lube. He saunters back to the couch, smirking. “Stay sitting,” he says, and Steve listens, watching closely. 

The smaller man spins around in front of Steve and makes a show of sliding his sweatpants slowly over his ass before Steve reaches out to give him a quick, playful slap on it.

“Hey!” Tony laughs.

“Couldn’t help it,” he smirks back. “Now get over here.” He grabs Tony’s arm and pulls him towards him. “Like this,” he guides Tony across his lap. “Good boy,” he says, voice rough, as his hands roam over his skin.

He’s still pliant from the night before, but Steve takes his time nonetheless. Savoring every soft moan Tony lets out, letting it vibrate through his body across Steve’s lap.

“So good for me, so fucking beautiful.”

“Please,” Tony begs, and Steve would tease him more, but he feels just as wrecked and desperate as Tony sounds. 

“Anything for you,” he says as he helps Tony rotate and sit up to straddle Steve once more. “Anything,” he sighs contentedly as he enters him.

He’s desperate, but he’s desperate to savor. He lets every roll of his hips etch into his memory. He lets every gasp Tony makes as Steve fucks up into him be recorded in his mind. The taste of salt on Tony’s skin. The way Tony’s head falls back as he rides Steve’s cock, closer and closer towards oblivion. 

Tony is chanting Steve’s name as Steve cums inside of him, quickly following as Steve strokes through the aftershocks. 

Steve doesn’t want to move. He wants to stay here on the couch with Tony in his lap forever. The sweat and cum cooling on their skin makes it sound less appealing, but they stay for a while. Wrapped in each other. Just holding, breathing, waiting.

If Tony thinks he hears a sniffle while the other man is pressed into his neck, he doesn’t say anything. He just holds him tighter for a moment. 

They know, even without a clock, that the time is slipping away. He pulls back and kisses Steve softly. “We have to go.”

“I know,” he sighs. 

“It’ll be okay,” Tony says, pressing a kiss to Steve’s forehead and smiling gently.

“I know,” Steve smiles back.

They pick up their clothes, and Tony ushers Steve into the shower.

“Smart thinking putting a full bathroom down here,” Steve says under the spray as Tony washes his back. 

“Well, before I had you all as roommates, I didn’t leave the lab much. It just made sense.”

Steve turns to rinse, but kisses Tony’s forehead first before stepping back into the water. 

“I’m glad you leave the lab now.”

“Me too,” he says, and he can feel his eyes crinkle with the side smile he has plastered on his face.

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

When the quinjet touches down Steve is waiting. He meets the open door instead of waiting for them to come out. 

“Hey,” as he enters the hoverbird. 

“Hey,” Bruce responds, a tired smile gracing his face. Nat just looks at Steve solemnly. 

“This is the best part of getting injured,” Clint laughs as Steve carefully picks him up bridal style. 

“I’m not sure when we decided this was more dignified than the medic crew,” Steve says carrying him out of the quinjet.

“When we realized it was more fun,” Clint smiles and waves over Steve’s shoulders at Natasha and Bruce, “see you later, chumps!”

“Natasha give you the good stuff, buddy?” Steve smirks as he brings them through the doorway.

“A little of it, yeah,” he giggles again. 

“Well, I’m glad you’re doin’ okay.”

The elevator ride is quiet for a moment before Clint speaks. “Please check on Natasha tonight.” There’s concern etched on his face.

“What happened, Clint?” 

“What we found...it has her spooked. She has that look in her eyes like when she wakes up from nightmares,” he grips Steve a little tighter. “They’re going to knock me the fuck out and reset my leg, I know how bad it is. So please, make sure she’s not alone tonight.”

“Of course,” Steve says, a bit dumbfounded. The elevator doors open to the med bay, and the team of doctors and nurses whisk Clint away the moment Steve sets him down.

In the elevator Steve looks down at his shirt. It’s filthy, there’s a blood streak or two mixed with the grim from carrying his friend. He stops for a new one on his floor before heading to Natasha’s.

She and Clint technically have their own separate floors with a private staircase between them, but mostly they live on Natasha’s.

Steve finds her just standing in the living room. There’s a duffle bag of gear at her feet, but she’s still wearing her uniform. She doesn’t look at him directly, but cocks a head in his direction as he enters the room. The tension in her body pulling her shoulders up, her fists clenched. He’s afraid she’ll crack into a million pieces like a shattered stone if he touches her.

“You’re home,” he says softly as he comes to face her. “He’s home. You’re safe. He’s safe.” He watches a micodium of tension slowly leave her body. Her hands unclench and her eyes close. “It is safe,” he repeats. She nods, her eyes still closed, a little more tension leaving her shoulders. “I’m going to touch you, okay?” She opens her eyes and nods.

As Steve reaches out for her arm, it’s like a band inside her snaps and her shoulders fall. She sags against him as he helps her to the bathroom.

“Can I…?” He asks softly as he leans her against the counter.

She nods tiredly. 

Steve turns the shower on, letting it warm up while he helps her out of her gear. 

He thinks for a moment how many times he’s seen his team naked. Tony was the only one who didn’t change for battles, and he never went on stealth ops. He’s changed with Clint and Natasha dozens of times in locker rooms, undercover hotel rooms, the quinjet. They’ve all patched each other up. There’s nothing more than familiarity and compassion to it. They trusted each other, they had to.

He’s noticing the rips and tears in her suit now. She leans back on the counter as he pulls off her boots. There’s a bruise the size of his splayed out hand on her side as he unzips her suit, and definitely a bullet graze on her thigh. He runs his hand through her hair, ash falling to her shoulders. 

The dirty and battered suit discarded, he gently ushers her into the shower.

“I’m going to stay here,” he says, and she just nods.

She stands under the spray, unmoving for so long Steve starts to worry. But eventually he sees her shadow move behind the frosted glass. 

He preps the substantial first aid kit stashed under the sink and she rinses the blood and grime off. He holds the towel for her as she steps out, and she looks a little more human than she did before. He pats the counter and she sits on it as he tends to her cuts.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He says as he disinfects the bullet graze.

“No.”

He doesn’t say anything further as he finishes bandaging and disinfecting. He retrieves her robe from it’s hook and helps her into it. Her battered body seems so small against the plush fabric. 

“I’m going to stay,” he says for the second time that night. She just nods and she crawls into bed with his help. He makes a move towards the armchair in the corner of the room, but she grabs his arm gently. 

“Can you…?”

He nods, and slips into the bed next to her. 

He thinks distantly that if she were anything other than his friend, this would be a romance movie trope or something. But the exhaustion etched onto her face is anything but romantic. He knows that she won’t sleep for a while, over tired and over tense. He turns the lights down anyways.

They lay in silent half sleep for what feels like hours. Both of them, too wired to sleep, but too tired to stay awake. She finds his hand in the dim light and he squeezes it lightly.

“We found the weapon,” she says quietly. He doesn’t respond, waiting for her to take the lead. “In the bowels of what was left of the Red Room.”

So that’s why Clint wanted to make sure she was okay. They had spent weeks in the hell that had hardened her. The original mission location was 500km away, and it must have moved throughout the op. 

“We chased him through the countryside,” she says, as if reading his mind.

Him?

“He led us back to the Red Room like he was expecting it to not be wasted to ash. He threw Clint down a flight—several flights of stairs. But I cornered him. He remembered me." 

"What?"

"He just said 'Natalia,' but I remembered that voice. That mask. That arm. He trained us. Me. He was brought in to show us how to be..." 

"Who, Nat?"

"The Winter Soldier. He's their weapon."

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

They sit in the debrief room, which is just a conference room with extra first aid kits and a snack bar. Tony’s in a suit, fresh from a board meeting that morning. Bruce doesn’t own anything besides cool linen button downs at this point. Clint is doing wheelies in his wheelchair. Natasha is rolling her tired eyes at him. Steve is dressed for the gym he intends to spend the rest of the day in after this meeting.

Tony and Steve hadn't seen each other since yesterday before the quinjet had gotten in, Tony had been whisked away for some Stark Industries business. He could see the worry etched on Steve’s face though.

“JARVIS, pull up mission info,” Natasha started when they were all settled in.

She laid it all out, her voice more steady than in the dark.

The weapons and intel storehouse disguised as an apartment block in Minsk they thought they were raiding was actually a safehouse and housing for Hydra agents and staff. The week and a half of undercover work around the building concluded Natasha’s successful seduction of an agent to get into the building.

Once inside their sonar scanners identified the fortified units. As did the not so subtle posted guards. The professionals they are, Clint and Natasha had dispatched them and gotten through the door without too much struggle, but an alarm tripped as they walked through the door and a man—the Winter Soldier escaped. 

Bruce had stayed with the strike team to round up the Hydra agents that hadn’t escaped. He’d become a skilled negotiator thanks to reasoning with his Hulk constantly. The partners took off after the man, anyone with that much security must be important. Their intuition was right, as Bruce called them later. The weapon stash was in that building. It was the man.

“He’s a wily one,” Clint broke in. “For someone you think would be conspicuous, he just melts into the crowd. I guess that’s why they call him a ghost.”

“The agents we captured just called him the Ghost of Moscow, we didn’t realize that he was the Winter Soldier until Natasha saw him,” Bruce explained to Tony and Steve.

They chased him over the Russian border, towards Moscow. They thought he was trying to lose them in the remote woods between the border and the city, but it turns out he was leading them towards the Red Room.

“It’s been gone since I burned it down after I left,” Natasha says matter of factly. “It’s been ash for years.”

For the first time in days, the Soldier faltered and they got the jump on him. Until he threw Clint down the old stairwell. He faltered again when he recognized Natasha.

“I hesitated,” she admits. “He got away because I hesitated.”

“Nat—” Clint starts softly. 

“No. I hesitated. It is just the facts,” she says firmly, and no one bothers trying to soothe her. They all know as well as she does, any of them would have done the same with a history like that. “But,” she continues, “we know who he is. We have more intel that should make that vault of data JARVIS has been mining a lot easier to decode.”

“What do we know about this Winter Soldier?” Steve asks. He’s read files, but he knows files can’t tell ghost stories the same way as people can. As his protege can. 

“He’s the world’s best and most elusive assassin,” Clint says, and Steve thinks he hears admiration in his voice. 

“I know, but who is he?”

“He’s nameless. He’s faceless. He’s the veritable boogeyman,” Natasha says. “He trained us. Not always, just on special occasions. He was… the model of what we were supposed to be. The perfect weapon.”

“You didn’t recognize him?” Tony says.

“Not closely, not until we were at the Red Room, and he was wearing a mask there. I recognized his voice. I’ve never seen him without a mask. A muzzle. The Ghost of Moscow isn’t a person, he’s a nightmare,” she says. Her voice sounds distant. 

“So we have a rabid dog on the loose?” Tony ponders.

“Maybe,” Bruce says. What we could get out of some of the Hydra agents is that he normally has a handler. His handler was found dead at his home in Moscow yesterday. Whether that was his doing or his a handler’s doing, we’re not sure. He could be alone or with another Hydra agent.”

“How do you track an invisible man? He’s spent his whole life in the shadows,” Steve asks, not really expecting an answer.

“Algorithms. Science,” Tony says. “JARVIS can use the information we’ve learned to decode faster. It might take a while, those bastards made it messy on purpose. But data is our friend.” Bruce agrees. 

“Alright. Well, everyone rest up. You did good work,” Steve says, he knows it’s bordering on his public rousing speech voice, but it’s genuine. “Anything else?” He looks pointedly at Tony, giving him a small nod.

“I—well, we just wanted to let you know we’re, uhh, together now,” Tony says gesturing to Steve and looking at the various expressions around the table. “We will not be taking any questions.”

“If there’s nothing else, I ordered us some lunch,” Steve said. They all break out in smiles as they make their way to the team dining room to stuff their faces.

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Life returns to normal over the next few weeks. Or as normal as the life of the Avengers can be. They train, they laugh, they bicker, they occasionally fight crime.

Steve sleeps on Tony’s floor most nights, even when Tony is away on business or in the lab. They snuggle on the couch during movie nights. They steal kisses in the hallway in passing on busy days. They go on dates (Tony flew them to Paris. Steve took them to a couples cooking class).

Life is good. Tony feels warm in his chest when he sees Steve smile. He loves the way he throws his head back when he laughs. He loves his gentle snores at night. He loves finding the random sketches Steve accidentally leaves all over. He loves when Steve walks up behind him and puts his hand on his lower back. He loves the way he sounds in bed. The way he tastes. The way he smells. He thinks he might even love Steve, but he doesn’t want to jinx it by thinking about it too hard.

He’s not thinking about it too hard when Steve comes down to the lab one morning.

“Hey,” he smiles as Steve kisses him gently, placing a fresh cup of coffee in his hand. He smiles at the warmth in his chest, on his face, in his hand.

“Hey yourself. I thought you could use a fresh cup.”

“I appreciate it.”

Tony loves the way a blush creeps into Steve’s cheeks. He wants to kiss it, make it spread.

“So hey, I was thinking,” Steve starts, “You maybe want to come with me to my apartment?”

“Oh! Your one in Brooklyn?” Tony asks, he knows Steve owns a block of apartments there, but he’s never been personally. Steve nods at him. “I’d love to. What’s the occasion?”

Steve smiles broadly. “I have to let a maintenance man into one of the units while a tenant is in the hospital. Also I haven’t checked on my actual apartment in like two months. So I figured I should probably make sure it’s still standing,” he laughs.

“When do you want to head out?”

“Around lunch time? There’s a great little deli around the corner we could get lunch at.”

“Sure,” he smiles. “I’ll see you upstairs when I’m ready to go. Now skidaddle, you lunk.” He kisses Steve again and waves him off.

If he thinks about the way he loves the light in Steve’s eyes when he laughs, he doesn’t mind that it takes a few minutes away from his project.

A few hours later they’re sitting in a deli and Steve is explaining the history of the neighborhood in between bites of his ruben. 

“Steve?” A voice calls over his shoulder.

“Rochelle!” He jumps out of his chair to meet the voice, which Tony sees is attached to an absolutely stunning woman. “Do you have a homing chip on me?” He laughs.

“We both just have great taste it seems,” she laughs, holding up her takeout bag containing a ruben sandwich to match Steve’s. “It’s been a while!” 

“Work and all that,” Steve waves it off. He turns to Tony, smiling. “Tony, this is my friend Rochelle. Rochelle this is—”

“Tony Stark,” she says, holding out her hand. “A pleasure to meet you. I’d say Steve has told me a lot about you, but the truth is that article in Vanity Fair last year told me more.” Her tone is playful, and normally Tony would find the comment annoying, but there’s something irresistible about her.

“Rochelle,” he shakes it firmly and warmly. “Luckily, I have heard of you! An absolutely stunning boutique procurer? Steve has incredible taste in friends, Barton aside. Why don’t you join us?”

“I’m actually on the run between meetings, but I would absolutely love to sometime! Steve,” she turns to him, “call me soon. And not in two months!” She laughs. “I must run,” she says, kissing him on the cheek. “Tony, it was so great to meet you,” she waves and she’s off out the door.

“You’re right, she is absolutely beautiful, wow,” Tony says, watching her out the window. “I should have thanked her for making you get a Timer.”

“Next time. I’m sure she’d appreciate a good lunch, or a personal procurement contract.”

Tony hums. 

They finish their lunch before walking hand in hand to Steve’s building. 

“We haven’t really talked about this.”

“Talked about what?” Steve asks.

“Being in public. What if someone sees us?” Tony says, voice a little tight.

“Then they see us,” Steve replies. “I don’t really feel like holding a presser explaining our lives yet, but if it happens, it happens. Let them talk.”

Tony smiles as they fall into comfortable silence.

He’d seen pictures of Steve’s building of course. He’s nosy. But seeing it in person is different. It looks so unassuming, hiding it’s 5 units in quiet repose. 

“It’s not much,” Steve says as if reading his mind. “But it’s mine. And so is the one next to it.”

“How many units total?”

“10. They’re basically identical, I had the bottom floor units on each of them converted into accessible housing, and the second floor of both of them is one large unit, and then the top floor is just two regular.”

“And you give them away?”

“Unofficially. They’re given to single mothers and disabled vets. Pepper helped me set up a fund or something for rent reduction. My buddy Sam down at the VA was a lot of help, too. Some people only stay a little while before moving to different cities, but most of the people have been here since I set it all up,” he smiles and shrugs. “Officially, they rent it for $1 a month. But I’ve never collected.”

“Do they know Captain America is their landlord?” Tony laughs.

“First of all, landlords are generally evil, I prefer to think of myself as a helpful neighbor. Secondly, I know Frank on the first floor knows because I met him at the VA, and I’m sure Vanessa’s daughter knows but Vanessa doesn’t believe her. If anyone else knows they haven’t said anything. They know Grant R. Stevens in Unit 5A owns the buildings, and that he works away from home a lot. And that’s about it.” He checks his phone for the time. “Plumbers should be here any minute. One of the vets, Maryanne, is getting some more surgeries and needs some different appliances put in while she’s in the hospital recovering,” he explains.

Tony takes in the details as they wait. This neighborhood seems quiet, almost a different world than the rest of New York. The street traffic doesn’t seem too heavy, but folks flit by on bikes, or walk their dogs along the streets filled with little brownstones and apartment blocks. Every few chunks of housing there’s an empty lot with a shared garden, including one in between the two buildings Steve owns. Flowers and veggies spring from the ground. Some of them have apple and plum trees. Steve’s buildings both have flower boxes on the windows. There’s a grey cat watching from one of the windows, another has soft white lace curtains fluttering in the breeze. He can hear children playing, and dogs barking somewhere in the distance. It all feels so homey in a way Tony had never experienced. He’s used to quiet estates, or bustling lobbies of high rises. He’s used to skylines and skyscrapers. The clicking of stilettos on marble, not sneakers pounding the pavement in packs. His heart aches with longing for a life he never had. He distantly registers Steve greeting a pair of plumbers and letting them into one of the ground floor units, offering to help them carry in the new items and tools and them gently declining, but he’s too busy lost in the foreign world to really process what he’s hearing. 

“Tony?” A hand reaches out and gently lands on his arm.

“Hm? What? Sorry,” he says coming back to reality. “This place is… Magical? Yeah, magical. It’s like a whole other world.”

Steve smiles bashfully, “Yeah, it still feels like home. I was surprised to realize it hadn’t changed much. The tower is my home too, but I could never give this up. Come on,” he pulls Tony towards the stairwell. “I want to wait around for a while, so I figured we could hang out at my place.”

“Oooo, the illustrious Chez Rogers, I feel honored,” Tony laughs. 

“I think you’re the only one who hasn’t been here,” Steve snorts. It’s true, Tony had been invited once or twice, but always felt like he was intruding, and Steve often went there to avoid Tony in the past.

“Well, just because you invite birdboy over for pizza parties doesn’t make him special,” Tony huffed. 

Steve smiled as he looked for his key, which popped open a hidden biometric scanner. “I haven’t been here since… Before the Timers. B.T? B.T.," he say making up his mind. "So, sorry if it’s kind of a mess. I was a little bit of a mess that week,” he laughs as he opens the door, but Tony could hear the undertone of nerves.

The apartment was homey, and neat from what he could see. 

“Oh good, my cleaning lady must have come,” Steve says. “JARVIS rings her if I haven’t come over in a couple weeks,” Steve explains. “Never know how long a mission will take and what I forgot to clear out of the fridge.”

“Gotta say, Rogers,” Tony starts as he strolls into the living room from the kitchen, “I was hoping for more of a debauched bachelor pad.” 

“Sorry to disappoint,” Steve smirks.

“Nah,” Tony plops down on the couch, “I like this better. It’s much more ‘Steve.’” He feels like he’s inside of Steve’s head in a way he never understood. He realizes so much of Steve is new, Steve doesn’t get to share the old parts of him very much. Sure there’s the stories and the relics. But there’s nothing like walking through the past.

Steve sits down on the opposite end of the couch. “Thanks, I’m glad I could get it back.”

“Did you grow up here?”

“No,” Steve’s eyes looked far away, but warm, “I actually grew up next door in the other building. Bucky and I, we lived here.”

“In this unit?”

“Yeah,” he says softly. “We had the kitchen table pushed up against the wall in the kitchen in the same way. I repainted, cause y’know, I can afford some paint now,” he chuckles. “But yeah, this was ours before he shipped off, and I followed him.”

“Oh wow.” Tony suddenly feels less like he’s walking through the past and more like he’s intruding on a sacred space. “Is it hard being back here?” 

“Yes and no,” Steve reaches out to hold Tony’s hand. “It’s my safe space. Somewhere I can just be. It’s familiar, even though it’s basically a new place. I remember looking out that window every morning,” he points over Tony’s shoulder, “and watching the barber open his shop. If I close my eyes, I can hear all the same sounds as I did back then, and it feels a little like going back in time. But then I remember Bucky isn’t asleep in the other room. Or Peggy isn’t planning to move in. Or any number of things, and it feels like a tomb. But mostly,” he squeezes Tony’s hand, “it’s another piece of home.”

“Thank you for sharing this with me,” he pulls Steve close, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. He feels terrible for not asking about it sooner. He feels the crushing pressure of the past on his shoulders. He’s not sure what he should do, so he just holds Steve close. 

They drift off, post lunch naps in the sunny living room.

A knock rouses Tony, but Steve is still sound asleep. He untangles himself from the larger man and walks to the door, peeking out of the side window. One of the plumbers waves, so he opens the door.

“Is Mr. Stevens in?”

“He’s asleep, sorry. Is there something wrong?”

“Nope! Just finished up and closed up, he knows how to reach us if he needs anything else,” she beams. 

“Thank you, I’ll let him know.”

“Anyone ever tell you that you look like Tony Stark?”

“Hah, yeah. I think I’m shorter,” he says. “Thank you though. Have a good afternoon,” he waves as she walks off.

He can still hear Steve’s small snores in the other room, but he figures it’s a good time to explore a little, also he needs to use the bathroom. 

The small, white room looks the most intact of the original unit. Tony pictures Steve’s tiny frail body in the giant clawfoot tub that feels like it takes up most of the bathroom. He washes his hands in the ancient pedestal sink. 

The room to the right holds Steve’s giant bed. All cool and dark covers. He pictures what it might have looked like when Steve and Bucky shared it. The bed was probably smaller.

The room to the left’s door was closed, and Tony knows he shouldn’t open it, but he does anyway. 

There’s late afternoon sun streaming in. There’s drop clothes scattered over the floor. And in the center of the room, there’s two easels with matching portraits.

A man’s freckled shoulder, a stubbled jaw smirking over his shoulder. A soft pink smile, paired with chestnut curls and soft skin. 

There’s Bucky.

There’s Peggy.

There’s Tony standing between them.

He wants to reach out and touch the memories attached to the canvas and acrylic. He wants to be them. To be loved like them. He wants to hold the magic they did over Steve. He wants to love Steve like they did, because he already does. 

“When my Timer went off I panicked,” Steve says softly from the doorway. Tony startles and takes a step back from the paintings and looks at Steve. His hair is mussed, fresh from sleep. “I couldn’t imagine a life without them, even thought I was already living it. I kept hoping I’d wake up and Peggy wouldn’t be in a nursing home in Manhattan, and Bucky wouldn’t be dead. They’d be here with me,” he steps into the room, settling into the spot next to Tony. “I was afraid that the Timer would mean losing them.”

“Then why did you do it?” He’s back to staring at the paintings. Taking in the intimate detail of them.

“Because as much as I missed them, I didn’t want to live in the past anymore. I wanted to finally look at my future,” he says as he gently grabs Tony’s hand.

Tony’s afraid to look at him, because he’ll cry if he does. He made a mistake by coming here.

“Tony, please look at me,” Steve says, barely a whisper.

Reluctantly, he pulls his eyes away from the paintings, turning his face up to Steve’s. Gentle blue eyes looking softly at him, concern lacing his brow. 

“Tony, you’re my future. You’re my love now,” he says, his large hand gently cupping Tony’s cheek. “I—”

Suddenly their phones are screeching, which can only mean one thing. Steve’s hand drops, and his shoulders tense as he reaches for the phone in his back pocket. 

“Hello?” He’s already rubbing his temple. “Yeah, he’s with me. What? Okay. Okay, yeah we’ll be back soon. I dont know Nat, ask JARVIS how long traffic is going to take, I’m not a fucking oracle. Yeah, I’m sorry. Okay. Yep. Bye.”

Tony just raises an eyebrow as Steve huffs and closes his eyes. 

“They cracked the code.”

“On the Winter Soldier?”

“Yeah. Nat said it’s urgent so we need to go now,” Steve looks heartbroken.

“Okay,” Tony says, taking his hand. He pulls him down into a gentle kiss. “Thank you for bringing me here.” 

“Of course. Sorry, I didn’t mean to drag you into my past.”

“Steve, drag me anywhere with you,” he smiles sadly and kisses him again. “But drag me back to the Tower for now.

Steve just nods softly.

They lock up, and there’s already a black town car waiting on the street for them. 

Tony watches Steve’s shoulders slump as they pull away from the building, but he just holds his hand tighter in the silence.

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

“Hey Steve, Hey Tony,” Bruce greets them nervously as they walk into the room.

There’s a tension in the air. 

Nat’s fingers are wrapped in tight fists. Clint looks positively grim.

“Grab a seat,” Bruce urges.

“You said you know who he is?” Steve asks, looking at the faces in the room. Clint wont look at him, just straight down at the table. Bruce looks sad. Natasha is blank in a way that sends chills down his spine as she nods.

“Well?” Tony says nervously besides him.

Natasha flicks her wrist at the screen on the wall.

A smug smile.

Brown slicked back hair.

“James Buchanan Barnes,” she says.

“Bucky,” Steve chokes out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *cue dramatic music*


	5. Shudder

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a little shorter and most of it is pretty heavy, but it ends with some holiday tidings.
> 
> This chapter starts with a someone having a panic attack. If you find that upsetting, you won't miss anything story critical skipping to the second section, marked by stars ☆

He can’t breath.

He can’t breath.

He can’t breath.

There’s ice.

There's a numbing cold.

There’s a ravine.

There’s Bucky.

There’s Bucky.

There’s Bucky.

This isn’t the first panic attack Steve’s had, but it definitely feels like this one might actually kill him.

There’s Bucky.

There’s Tony holding his arm.

There’s Natasha rubbing his back.

There’s Clint watching with concern.

There’s Bruce handing him a glass of water.

There’s Bucky on the screen.

There’s Bucky on the screen.

There’s Bucky alive.

He’s alive.

He’s the Winter Soldier.

His head reels as he gasps for air. He wants to wake up from this nightmare. Except he knows it’s not a nightmare, so he just gasps for air.

He can hear his team, his family, his boyfriend fretting over him in the distance, like he’s under 100 feet of ice again.

His boyfriend.

His boyfriend.

His boyfriend.

He wonders if maybe this panic attack did kill him and he’s in hell.

His boyfriend is alive, and he can’t breathe.

His boyfriend is alive, and holding his hand.

His boyfriends are alive.

Is Bucky still his boyfriend if they’ve both died and been reborn?

Is Tony still his boyfriend if Bucky is alive?

Is anything real? Because none of this feels real anymore.

He wants to close his eyes and wake up in his shitty apartment before the war started. He wants to wake up with asthma and bad eyesight. He wants to wake up anywhere but here. He wants to not be awake at all.

Bucky’s alive.

Bucky’s alive.

Bucky’s alive.

He feels the hand making circles on his back.

He feels the hand gripping his hand.

He feels the hand pressing a cool glass into his hand.

He takes a shuddering breath in.

He takes another.

And another.

He’s not falling through the ice anymore. He’s not feeling Bucky’s hand slip through his. He’s not in the 1940’s.

He’s here.

He’s in the debrief room.

He can fill his lungs again, if just barely.

“Steve?” Tony asks, softly. “Steve, sweetheart?”

“He’s alive,” Steve says raggedly.

“Bucky’s alive,” Bruce confirms.

Natasha’s hand is still rubbing circles on his back.

Steve finally tears his eyes away from the screen. Away from Bucky.

To Tony.

There’s Tony’s hand on his cheek.

There’s Tony’s thumb wiping away tears streaming down Steve’s face.

There’s Tony saying, “Hey.”

“You with us, Stevie?” Tony says.

Steve just nods.

“I think we’re done here for now,” Natasha says to the others.

“Steve, please take this,” Bruce says as he pushes some pills into his hand.

Steve thinks he should probably ask what they are. But he’s too tired. He’s so tired. He’s so overwhelmed. He knows they’re probably going to knock him out, and that’s all he wants right now. He just hopes he doesn’t dream.

He swallows the pills.

He lets Tony and Natasha get him out of the chair.

He lets them take him to his bed.

He lets the dark envelope him.

Bucky’s alive.

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Tony wants to scream. He wants to scream at Natasha. He wants to scream at Steve. He wants to scream at himself. But he knows none of this is anyone’s fault.

He and Natasha are standing silently in the hall outside of Steve’s door, waiting for him to start snoring, or screaming, or something.

“What do we do?” She says quietly.  
“I don’t know, you’re supposed to be the master strategist,” he spits.

Soft snores begin behind the door and they go to sit on Steve’s couch silently.

“That was rough,” she says, hands absently combing through her red locks.

“Yeah.”

“Are you okay?”

“Not really.”

She doesn’t say anything in return. They just sit in the silence, watching the sun set out of the plate glass windows. The best view in New York, and Tony just wants to see anything else at this moment, but he can’t do anything about it.

“Bruce is going to come sit with you,” she says quietly long after the sun goes down. He hadn’t noticed her tapping at her phone.

He hums acknowledgement as she gets up to leave. She pauses if she wants to say something, but he watches her shoulders slump. He forgot for a moment this was all tied to her past too.

He’s furious at her. He wants to blame her for springing this on Steve, but the truth is, there’s no way it wouldn’t have ended like this.

“Drink this,” Bruce says, setting a warm cup of tea in his hand and sitting down.

“Are you like the official beverage boy of the Avengers or something now? Jolly Green Gatorade? When did you get so stealthy?”

Bruce rolls his eyes. “No, it’s grounding and also hydration is important.”

They sit in silence. The tea is kind of grounding. The warm, weighted cup in his hand. The sweet, fragrant liquid. The cup in his hands gets lighter. The night gets darker.

“I don't want to lose him,” he whispers.

“I know.”

“What are we going to do?”

“We have to find him, Tony. Not for Steve, but because it’s our job. He’s not the kind of thing you let loose on this world,” Bruce shook his head.

He knew that was the answer, but he hadn’t wanted to hear it. But ever practical, Bruce didn’t beat around the bush.

“What about Steve?”

“It’s for Steve, too,” Bruce says. “He’s never going to stop looking for him now that he knows he’s alive.”

“How is he alive?” Tony asks, setting his empty cup down.

“We didn’t get to that part. They experimented on him when he was initially captured. Tried to replicate what they did to Steve,” Bruce says. “The notes say that’s how he survived the accident Steve and the Army thought he died in. It’s on the server.”

“So hydra has a super assassin, who also happens to be a turncoat?” Tony groans.

“Well,” Bruce continues, “there’s some heavy indoctrination protocols they set up for him. It’s some really fucked up shit, to put it lightly. There is likely nothing left of who James Barnes was.” Tony could hear it in his voice. The sound of someone who had spent hours pouring over a horror story.

“What are you saying, Bruce? They brainwashed him?”

Bruce nods grimly, “and tortured him. And experimented on him. And likely horrific things not on file. They put him in stasis when they weren’t…”

“Using him,” Tony finishes and Bruce nods again, a hand running nervously through his salt and pepper hair.

“So he’s not old? He’s still young like Steve?” Tony can barely keep up with the 31 year old Steve. He doesn’t know what he’d do with another early 30 year old running around. He and Bruce would be outnumbered by younglings. Clint didn’t count, he was too foolish to count as an older gentleman.

“From the documents, and from cross agency files for missions and assassinations attributed to him, and Natasha’s experience, we think he’s been out for around 5 years total, but it’s hard to tell. None of the documentation discusses him as a person, just an asset, a weapon. They discuss maintenance and repairs, not medical records. ”

“What else do we know?”

“We think he’s been picking off Hydra officials,” Bruce shrugs. “But there’s no pattern,” he says, anticipating Tony’s next question. “There’s nothing else useful yet, just more horror. JARVIS is still working.”

Tony doesn’t know what else to say.

Neither does Bruce. So they just stay there, watching the night sky.

“Do you love him?” Bruce says after a time.

“Yeah,” Tony sighs.

He looks at his Timer.

Maybe he wasn’t worthy of Steve’s love.

Maybe he was just a glitch.

“I think he loves you, too.”

Tony just smiles sadly. He’s not sure he believes it.

“I’m going to turn in,” Bruce says as he pats Tony’s knee and gets up. “Please get some rest, Tony.”

“Sweet dreams, Brucie,” he tries to joke, but he’s too tired and it comes out hollow.

He’s alone again, in the artificial stillness and silence of climate control, everything seems too big.

Maybe if he stares at the night sky long enough it will give him some answers.

“I do love you,” a voice comes from the darkness of the hallway.

Steve melts forward out of the darkness.

“I love you, Tony.”

He’s standing in the moonlight in the middle of the room. He looks like a pale specter in it’s cool glow. His sleep rumpled clothes look like stone, pulling his shoulders down. He looks so tired. He looks so weary.

“How much of that did you hear?” Tony asks, not daring to move lest he scare the tired specter away.

“Most of it, I think,” Steve says. “That he’s not… That he’s not Bucky, anymore.” There’s a shaky breath from the dark. “That you love me.”

“I do.”

Steve’s body jerks towards the couch, and Tony thinks he’s going to fall and is up and on him in an instant, arms wrapping around him.

Steve is sobbing in his arms, wailing as they slide to the floor.

He’d never heard someone truly wail until the aftermath of the Invasion of New York.

Now Steve was wailing in his living room. Full wracking sobs.

Tony had no solutions.

He couldn’t fix his way out of this one.

So he just held Steve close, as he cried and screamed into his chest. Tears and snot soaking through his shirt, chilling on his skin.

He pressed kisses into his hair.

He whispered, “I love you,” between Steve’s shaky breaths.

He wants to cry too. He wants to sob and scream and wail. He’s watching Steve’s heartbreak, and he can feel his own bleeding at the seams.

But he just holds Steve instead.

Until Steve cries himself hoarse.

Until Steve’s face is swollen and red with tears.

Until Steve’s breaths even out.

Until the sun comes up.

Until Steve says, “I love you.”

Then he cries.

Then Steve picks them up.

Then Steve picks him up.

Then they’re in Steve’s bed.

“I love you,” Steve says again.

“I love you,” Tony says back.

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

When Tony wakes up, Steve is gone.

Panic floods his system.

What if Steve is gone gone?

He hears a small crash coming from the direction of the kitchen.

Okay, just hungry. Tony understands, it’s been a long 24 hours.

He pulls himself out of bed, his face is still raw and puffy from crying. His shirt is still tear stained from holding Steve. He’s too tired and too hungry to really care.

The kitchen smells like cinnamon and yeast and is in slight disarray as he pads in to Steve washes dishes.

“Steve?”

He turns with a soft, tired smile, “hey, you.”

“If I knew it came with cinnamon rolls, I would have confessed my love a long time ago,” Tony says, sauntering over to Steve, but stopping to peek through the oven window. Maybe if he pretends nothing happens he can save his dignity.

Steve pulls him into a tight hug.

He smells like spices and dough and dish soap and sweat. Tony wants to live in this moment. He wants to forget what Steve sounded like when his heart was breaking. He wants to forget holding him while he cried over his not-so-lost love. He wants everything to be cinnamon rolls in the late morning sun.

“I couldn’t sleep much, so I figured we could use something comforting.”

“Smells great, Steve,” he says, still clinging to the larger man.

“Hey Tony,” Steve questions softly, disengaging from the hug.

Tony really doesn’t want to hear what he has to say next. He doesn’t want to hear about Bucky. He doesn’t want to hear about next steps. He just wants to live in cinnamon rolls in the late morning sun.

So he kisses Steve instead tenderly.

“Shh,” he soothes onto Steve’s lips. Much to Tony’s relief, Steve melts into the kiss. His lips taste like coffee and Tony never wants to stop.

Tony’s hand comes up to run through the short hair at the base of the blond’s skull as his other arm holds him close. He deepens the kiss, licking into Steve’s mouth. Steve pulls him closer.

The kiss becomes needy, heady, as hands roam. He rolls his hips against Steve, who he’s pinned against the counter and Steve gasps into his mouth, thin fabric of pajama pants not leaving much of a barrier. Tony’s hands search blindly for the hem of Steve’s shirt, the waistband on his pants until he finally finds the gloriously warm skin.

“Tony,” Steve moans softly. “Please, st—”

“Shh,” he presses into his lips again, “let me, I want to make you feel good.”

Steve pulls back softly, catching Tony’s wrist.

“Tony, not right now,” he says regretfully.

Tony snatches his arm back and steps away. He doesn’t want to be hurt. He doesn’t want to feel the sting of rejection. He respects consent. But he is, and it stings. He feels utterly terrible.

“Sorry,” he mumbles before turning and walking out of the room. He just wants to be not here. He doesn’t want to hear what Steve was going to say. He doesn’t want the stupid cinnamon rolls in the late morning sun anymore. He just wants to be alone where there’s no one to break his heart.

He settles for drinking scotch in the shower.

And then drinking scotch in the lab.

“Hey DUM-E, another round, my friend,” he waves to the robot which beeps and rolls closer with a tray in his claw. “This is water,” he frowns, but drinks the cool glass anyways.

“Sir, I have taken the liberty of switching your drinks to water for the remainder of the day, as you’ve been drinking for 6 hours straight,” JARVIS’s cool voice explains.

“Traitor,” Tony mutters as he takes the glass. Come to think of it, he definitely doesn’t feel great. Maybe it’s the heartbreak. Maybe it’s the fear. Maybe it’s the fresh bottle of scotch he opened this afternoon that is definitely a lot lighter than when he started. He should eat, maybe. Sleep, definitely. He really doesn’t want to talk to anyone right now.

He must have jinxed it, because he sees Bruce punching his code into the lab door and frowning.

“Tony,” he says with that still, sad, steady tone he always seems to have.

“Brucie,” he tries to match it, but it comes out wobbly, and it throws him into giggles instead.  
“Alright, buddy, let’s get some food in you,” Bruce says, taking the glass of water from Tony’s hands, and pulling him off the deep couch.

Bruce ushers him back to his floor, where there’s a peanut butter sandwich and another glass of water waiting. When he’s finished, Bruce makes sure he gets tucked in bed.

“Bruce,” Tony says as he crawls into the wide bed. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Tony,” he responds in his sad, steady voice. “Tomorrow though, you have to talk to him.”

Tony’s head is spinning now, but he nods. Or he thinks he does, he can’t feel his body anymore.

Bruce shuffles away, and Tony lets the weighted sleep of heavy liquor drag him under as he hears the door click closed.

He’s so cold.

He can’t breath.

He can hear the rush of air behind his back as he falls from the rapidly closing wormhole. Pushing and pulling him from all directions.

But there’s Steve.

Steve’s on the other side of the wormhole, being sucked into the blackness.

His frozen hand outstretched to Tony.

His face twisted in pain, dead in the void of space.

Tony screams for him.

He tries to fly to him but his suit is broken.

He’s hurtling towards death.

As the wormhole blinks closed Tony screams again.

He shoots up in bed, not hurtling through his nightmare anymore.

He can smell the sour sweat of nightmares and alcohol soaking him. His head and heart are pounding. There’s tears running down his face.

But he’s alive. He’s not in space. He’s right here, in his bed. Shivering in the dark.

“Jay, where’s Steve?”

“Captain Rogers is on the balcony, Sir.”

Tony pulls himself out of the damp bed, shedding his sweaty and disgusting clothes as he walks to the shower.

He lets the warm water wash away the panic and shame. He allows himself a moment of blank peace before he steels himself on his next move.

He methodically dresses and trudges to the shared floor. He feels like shit, hangover headache throbbing behind his eyes.

He has a flashback to Steve finding him in the same place Steve is now. Sitting on the balcony, in the dark. Watching the night sky.

"Sorry to interrupt your party," he says quietly as he steps into the night.

“A wise man once told me you need three to party,” Steve says, watching him warily as he comes to sit across from him on a chair.

“Is that what I am now, ‘wise?’ Jay, make a note of this moment to hold over the good Captain’s head later.”

Steve snorts a short laugh, a smile tinging his face in for what feels like the first time in a long time, though Tony knows it’s just been a weird couple of days.

“Sorr—” they both start and stop in unison. Tony’s mouth shuts tight and he motions for Steve to go. He still doesn’t really want to hear what Steve has to say, but he also doesn’t really want to say what he has to say either.

Steve leans forward with his elbows on his knees and scrubs his face.

“Tony, I’m sorry. For this morning. For last night. For everything. It’s just been a lot to handle. You shouldn’t have had to see me like that, I’m sorry for dragging you into my grief,” his voice is quiet. His hand nervously plucks and smooths his pant leg.

Tony wasn’t sure what he had expected, but it wasn’t that.

“What? No,” he sighs. “I meant what I said last night. You never have to hide from me, no matter what you’re feeling,” he says. He leaves the, “even if you’re planning on leaving me for him,” in his mind, though. “I’m sorry I pushed something unwanted this morning, I understand if you want to take a step back.” He tries to sound indifferent, but he knows it comes out tighy.

“Oh, Tony,” Steve breathes, reaching for his hand. “Tony, no. Please look at me,” he says, another hand grasping his. Steve’s eyes are gentle and sad, and so, so beautiful. “Tony, I meant what I said. I love you.”

“But—”

“Bucky?” Steve sighs.His eyes close for a moment. “I need to find him. I need to bring him home.”

This is what Tony expected to hear. That Steve was leaving. That Tony wasn’t Bucky. That Tony wasn’t enough.

“What if there’s nothing to bring home?” Tony says blankly. He doesn't want to say it, but he doesn’t want to hold it either. It feels cruel to say it, and it feels naive to let Steve think bringing anything less than a brain damaged liability home is possible. Those big, blue, beautiful eyes look like they’re going to spill.

“I have to try.”

“I know,” he says, giving Steve’s hands a small squeeze.

“I’m not leaving you. Tony, I love you.”

Oh, Tony thinks his eyes might spill too.

“You love him, too.”

Steve sighs. Tony wishes he never had to hear that again. He’s heard too much of it.

“You still love Pepper, do you not? You don’t just stop loving someone, Tony.”

Tony nods weakly.

“I need to help him, if he can be helped. I do love him. But I love you, too. And I’m not leaving you,” Steve says, lifting a hand to his lips to kiss it gently.

“What if you do get him back? What if you could get Bucky back?”

“Tony, please. Hypotheticals don't help—”

“Steve, please,” he pleads. He can’t be surprised later. He wants to mourn now. He wants to hear it now, not down the line. He wants to savor every moment left, so when Steve leaves, he has something to remember.

“I don’t know, Tony. I don’t know. I wish I did. I haven’t thought that far, because it’s so unlikely,” he says softly. “But I love you. And I don’t plan on being anywhere you’re not. I don’t plan on being anything without you. I’m not leaving you. But he was my best friend, and I need to find him.”

Tony wants to believe him. He wants to think that is the truth. But he can’t.

“Okay,” he says. “I—okay.”

“I love you, Tony.”

Tony wants to believe the love he thinks he sees in Steve’s face. He wants to believe Steve so bad his heart aches. Because he’s not lying when he responds, “I love you.”

Steve smiles and kisses his hand again.

“So where are we going to start looking?” Tony says.

“What?”

“You’re not doing this alone,” Tony shrugs. If he’s going to lose the love of his life, he’s not going to let him also suffer in the process. “So where do we start?”

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

“These are all the known top Hydra commands, there are more, we just don’t know them,” Natasha says waving at the 23 images in the air. Several of them turn red. “Those are the ones that have been murdered since Bucky escaped.”

They’re in the conference room, the table spread with papers and holograms and tension.

“That’s a lot of folks to have eyes on,” Bruce notes.

“Is there any pattern to them? They’re all over the globe,” Tony asks, studying the remaining pictures.

“No,” JARVIS pipes up. “Sergeant Barnes appears to be choosing at random. I’ve cross referenced these current murder tactics, along with styles favored in the files we’ve decripted, to current police reports globally about likely Hydra agents murdered and have identified 7 more likely assassinations.”

Steve shakes his head, “Bucky was—is a sniper. He’s a tactician, even as the Winter Soldier. He’d know the odds and probably the speed of someone trying to establish a pattern.”

“This might not be a popular opinion, but what if we just...let him?” Clint asks, shrugging. “Less Hydra isn’t a bad thing, and it would help us narrow our field of search as time goes on.”

Natasha nods and shrugs as the rest of the team stares on silently.

“We can’t just lose the intel they might have,” Steve says.

“So we go clean up after they’re dead,” Clint shrugs again. “I know we’re normally not the killing type, but after what they did to him… Can we blame him? Do we want to save them? It’s not like we treat Hydra missions as rescue missions.”

A silent realization falls over the room. It’s the path of least resistance. It’s likely a lot of them would die by their own hand rather than be taken into custody anyways, or killed during a take down. A lot of them usually do. There are countless Hydra graves with bodies this room has touched. Clint shrugs again as he watches the varied expressions work through it.

Finally, Steve lets out a long breath.

“I really, really, really want that to be the easy solution. But Bucky could be hurt, and intel could be lost,” he shakes his head. “We’ll keep tabs on the top ranking actively, and keep general surveillance on the people lower in the ladder,” he swipes his hand through the air and the images rearrange. “But, we certainly aren’t focused on saving them. Just their data. Just Bucky. Hydra officer casualties aren’t our concern, only civilians,” he shrugs.

Steve wants to be shocked with himself. Captain America is supposed to save people. Captain America is supposed to be just.

But maybe this is justice. Maybe this time, killing is fair. How many people has he killed? He’s lost count. He pretends to not notice all the necks bent at weird angles. Or the bullet holes. But they wake him up screaming some nights.

He wants to be surprised, maybe even horrified with himself. But he’s not.

The faces in the room don’t particularly seem shocked or horrified either. They just nod silently in agreement.

“We’ll try to bring them in if we can though,” he says tightly. “We’ll watch in pairs. I have some other agents we can call in to rotate. At least two of us should be in New York at a time,” he says, and they get to work.

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

“Hey,” Tony’s face lights up the screen of Steve’s phone, the warm glow filling the back of the quinjet. “You guys on your way home?”

“Hell yeah!” Clint shouts from the pilot’s seat. Steve laughs softly.

“He caught our scent on Turgenev before we could catch him,” Steve says, sadness tinging his voice. “But we got the bad guy on his way to the Raft.”

“And one less bastard in this world!” Clint hoots.

“Cheers to that, birdboy,” Tony’s glass is raised into view. “Sorry it was a bust, gumdrop.”

Steve rolled his eyes at the pet name. “I’d say getting a Hydra officer isn’t a total bust,” he huffed.

“Always so pragmatic,” Tony said. “Can’t wait to see you,” the camera flipped around to show Natasha and Bruce plucking brightly colored ornaments out of a box. “We’re about to start decorating the tree.”

“Don’t you dare put the star on before I get there,” Clint pouts from his seat.

“Of course not, we got you a bird’s nest to build on top,” Tony says matter of factly.

“Alright, alright,” Steve cuts off whatever Clint was about to say. “We’ll be home in 90. Bye, Tony.”

“Bye, pixie stick.”

The screen goes black, and he makes his way to the cockpit to sit with a smiling Clint.

The rotations hadn’t been fun, or easy. Everyone was getting restless as the Hydra officers were picked off or picked up.

Bucky really was like a ghost. This is the closest they’d come, watching him bolt out of the window he slid in. Steve had tried to catch him, but he watched the man leap off a building and in the second it took Steve to get to the ledge he had vanished into thin air.

His heart sank every time they came home empty handed, but it wasn’t all bad at home. The rotations had given them all some peace and quiet in the tower, and one on one time with each other. It was nice. Laughing with Bruce over scrabble. Snuggling with Tony. People watching with Clint. He’d even gone clubbing with Natasha before they came home from a failed rotation. Tony hadn’t let him hear the end of it yet.

But he felt a little like he was starting to come apart at the seams. And maybe Tony was too. They woke up screaming with nightmares a little too often. Some days Steve felt like he didn’t have the energy to get out of bed. Some days Tony didn’t come out of the lab. Some days he was consumed by the thought of what would happen if they got Bucky home. And some days Tony would do anything to avoid that topic.

“Feet of the dash, Rogers,” Clint’s voice broke through his thoughts. “What’s goin’ through your head, buddy?”

“Do you think this is too much for everyone?” Steve asked, watching the other man’s face in the glow of the cockpit lights.

“I think it hasn’t been easy, but we all get it,” he shrugged. Typical Clint.

“I think it’s too much for Tony,” Steve said softly.

“Honestly, it must be pretty freaky for him, Steve.”

“I already told him I’m not going anywhere,” Steve sighed. He’d told him many times, in so many different ways.

“Even if he believes that,” Clint sounded unconvinced, “you, uhhh, weren’t doing so hot there for a while. He was worried, we all were.”

Okay, so maybe the first couple times they failed to bring Bucky home, and after he’d read the full file, he hadn’t slept or ate or gotten out of bed for a few days. But it got better, after the 5th time. And hey, they were at their 10th failure and he only sort of felt like crawling in bed for a week. So, Steve thought maybe that was progress. But, maybe Clint had a point.

“I’m not sure how to fix it,” Steve said.

“Well, my Christmas present to you is that we changed the rotation post holidays so that you and Tony will have the next 3 missions off,” Clint smiled. “And don’t tell her I told you, but Nat called in some favors for Christmas, so we’ll have eyes in New York. You and Tony can get away for awhile.”

“Wow,” he breathed. “Clint, that’s so… thoughtful.”

He’d never had much family. Having this many people looking out for him at once was almost overwhelming.

“Don’t mention it, pal,” Clint said. “No, really, don’t spoil it for Nat. She’s really excited to tell you.” He laughs.

“You got it,” Steve smiled as New York City appeared on the horizon.

He couldn’t wait to see his family. His partner. To hug them, and kiss them. To trade presents around the tree on Christmas in a few days. The Mini Museum he had gotten Tony was going to come with a reservation to a remote cabin now.

For all his baggage, his team still loved him. Tony still loved him.

He couldn’t wait to see the look on Tony’s face and kiss him under the mistletoe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy holidays! Can't wait to hear what you're thinking!


End file.
